


Before the Storm

by haunter_ielle



Series: Striking the Heart [3]
Category: Companions - Fandom, Dark Brotherhood - Fandom, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, Assassins & Hitmen, Companions, Crossover Pairings, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Doesn't even know what two plus two is, Emo Vilkas, Jergen is a Bad Dad, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage, Moody Vilkas, POV Multiple, Poor Baby Farkas, Romance, Still a little baby, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Ulfric is a Bad Dad, Why are you all connected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 148,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8086048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haunter_ielle/pseuds/haunter_ielle
Summary: When the Black Sacrament is performed, the Listener and the Keeper have no choice but to answer the call. In this case, though, Arabella is faced with some important decisions to make about people from her past, and possibly her future.Karalissa is perfectly happy with a drama-free life with the Companions, her brother and his family, her two closest friends, and her loving husband. In her world, though, nothing ever stays peaceful for very long.Cassius is at peace with his new life, a home by a lake with his wife and daughter, and the Dragonborn has ultimately retired. A letter from the Palace of Kings threatens to disrupt everything, and he is determined to discover the truth about his family's dysfunctional dynamic.In the third installment of the Striking the Heart series, three original characters, and the leaders of three different factions, come together to make big decisions when the High King of Skyrim performs the Black Sacrament.





	1. A Contract

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Whispers in the Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7877443) by [haunter_ielle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haunter_ielle/pseuds/haunter_ielle). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After receiving a complicated contract, Arabella and Cicero travel across Skyrim to discover the true identity of the Dragonborn.
> 
> POV: Arabella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lads and lassies!
> 
> We're back at it again!! Super excited to share all of my twisted ideas with you all. My editor and I have spent many nights on the floor of my bathroom with markers and huge sheets of paper, drawing flowcharts that connect all of my original characters together. I had planned to release several other works, including a work that revolved around the Thieve's Guild and finishing that work where Karalissa and Vilkas do side-quests, but I decided I couldn't wait any longer and had to get this stuff posted.
> 
> I HAVE to tell you all, this book will make a LOT more sense if you've read Whispers in the Dark, because some of this story's main characters came from there. It's not too difficult to catch on if you haven't read it, but if you have(Hi @ScribeoftheKingofKnights you rock), then this should be seriously easy to understand. If you really want the info, but don't care to read the whole fic, reading only chapter eleven of Whispers in the Dark should help.
> 
> Alright, kiddos. Without any further ado, here come dat fic.

            “I am begging you to stop.” I mumbled, my face buried in my folded arms. I had my head rested on the table in the eating area, desperately trying to drown out the sound of Cicero’s voice. My brain was pounding in my congested skull, and Cicero’s screaming wasn’t helping.

            He cackled wildly, stomping his foot on the table to get my attention. I lifted my head, greeted by the wide, evil grin on the jester’s face. He was standing on the tabletop, ignoring the protests of both me and Nazir, giving a lesson to the recruits.

            Cicero raised an eyebrow, putting his hands on his hips. “If the Listener wishes for silence, then perhaps she should go to her room.”

            I rolled my eyes, placing my head back on the table. “You say that as if it makes any difference. I can hear your voice from every room of this bloody sanctuary.” I lifted my head again to sneeze, pulling a handkerchief from my pocket and covering both my nose and mouth.

            Cicero made a face, distorting his features to convey disgust. “That’s gross, Listener.” He turned back to his small group of recruits, who were listening to our banter with fixed ears. “Maybe if you hadn’t fallen asleep outside like a dummy, you wouldn’t have a cold.”

            I glared at him. “And maybe if you hadn’t dragged me across Skyrim to get these damned daggers, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep outside.” I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms. “You act like I can control the weather. I can’t tell the sky to stop raining.”

            “The sky has nothing to do with the fact that you slept through the rain.” he countered, turning back to his lesson. “Now, we return to our lecture. Where did I leave off?”

            Thomas spoke first, his dark eyes fixed on Cicero. “You were telling us that daggers are your weapon of choice.”

            “Ah, yes! Thank you.” Cicero pulled his worn ebony blade from his hip, gripping the handle and spinning it about to impress the recruits. “A dagger is the preferred weapon of many assassins, myself included. Where as many of the other weapons we have used are heavy and thick, the dagger is light and thin.” He tossed the dagger up a few inches, catching it by the pointed end on the tip of his index finger. He balanced it there while he continued. “Explain to me, Mareena, step by step analysis of how to strike with a sword.”

            Mareena, the lanky Imperial leaning against the shrine of Sithis, folded her arms across her chest. “You raise your arm, whichever is holding the sword, and—”

            “I’m sorry,” Cicero interrupted, continuing to twirl his dagger around. “Were you born with a sword imbedded in the flesh of your hand? Draw your weapon.”

            Marina stood straight, obviously embarrassed that she’d answered incorrectly. “You pull the sword from your hip, position your feet, raise the blade to strike, and the swing at the target.”

            Cicero nodded. “And Nikulas, explain how to strike with a warhammer.”

            Nikulas, the gruff Nord nearer to Thomas and our newest recruit, spoke in a husky voice, his brows furrowed in indifference above blue eyes. “Pull the hammer from your back, get in you stance, then swing.” He put his hand on the handle of the warhammer on his back, as if defending his choice in weapons.

            “Mhm, that’s it.” Cicero said, tucking his dagger back into its holster. “All of those steps, and by the time you’ve put your feet where they’re supposed to be, I’ve already pulled my dagger and plunged it into your jugular. And you’re dead, before you even swing.” The recruits all shifted from foot to foot, thinking about that as Cicero continued. “Aside from the beautiful speed of this weapon, there is also the energy you save. When faced with multiple enemies at once, you can’t waste any of your strength lifting a heavy weapon.” He mimicked several stabs with a different dagger, one he pulled from his boot. “As you can see, I’m hardly moving my arm. Not moving my wrist either, honestly. While you’re recovering from one swing and drawing energy to strike again, you’re within my grasp and my BLADE IS IN YOUR THROAT!”

            “Cicero!” I cried, clutching my head. “By Sithis, Keeper, I’m begging you to lower your voice.”

            He grinned, an evil sort of grin that meant he had an idea. He hopped off of the table, striding toward the recruits and showing them his blade. He handed it to Thomas, who eagerly took the dagger.

            “Feels light, doesn’t it?” Cicero asked, his hands on his hips. Thomas and Nikulas both towered over the Keeper, both being Nords and the size of me and Cicero put together twice.

            Thomas nodded, handing the blade back to him. “It is, Keeper. Very light.”

            Cicero smirked. “And with lightness comes a certain aerodynamic. The dagger will fly, and with a good amount of practice, you can control where it goes. This is a useful tactic used by many assassins.” He faced the recruits again. “That ends one lecture and begins a new lesson: dagger throwing.”

            Marina’s face lit up. “Really? When do we start?”

            “Right now.” Cicero said, turning in my direction and throwing the blade right at me. The gasps of the recruits were muffled by the whirring in my head, a green wave of light flashing before me as I lifted my hand to stop the blade.

            It froze midair, a few inches from my raised hand. Cicero smirked, knowing I’d be able to stop it from the beginning. Since I’d begun training with telekinesis, Cicero had made it his mission to find an object I couldn’t manipulate, and so far there wasn’t one. I flicked my fingers, and Cicero’s blade flew back toward him, spinning slightly before it returned to the holster at his hip.

            Cicero cackled again, even louder than before, and the sound made my eyes throb in their sockets. I stood from my chair, bowing in mock dismissal and striding from the room. Cicero didn’t miss a second, escorting the recruits to the practice area to train and continuing with the lesson. He grazed my cheek as we passed each other, utterly unapologetic, as always.

            Heading down the opposite hall, I entered my forging area in the room that was meant to be a torture chamber and shut the stone door behind me. Supplies were scattered about from where Mareena and Dala-grog had been trying to make gauntlets, for whatever reason, and I stepped over ingots and pokers as I ducked into the fireplace in the back of the room. I smirked to myself, acknowledging that I was standing in the exact spot where Cicero had nearly bled to death. I sighed at the memory of that day, shaking my head to dismiss it as I pushed open the false back panel of the fireplace and ducked into the next hall.

            Putting the panel back in its place, I walked down the darkened hallway toward the stairs at the back, then down another hallway to a locked door at the end. I lifted my hand to remove the bracelet from my wrist, which held one of the two keys to the door. Though the door was covered in locks, only one was real, an unnecessary precaution Cicero had elected to take. I counted down to the third lock, twisting the key and pushing the door open.

            Resting within was the Night Mother’s dark shrine. As I closed the door, I conjured a ball of light in my left hand, tossing it above me to illuminate the room so I could make my way to the matches on the table in the corner. I walked around the room, lighting all of the candles mounted on the wall and then returning the matches to their place.

            The room was actually rather large for such a small hallway. With stone benches stretching all the way up to the coffin at the head of the room, the Night Mother’s shrine was actually the size of a small temple. The four assassins from Falkreath, Nazir, Babette, Cicero and myself, were the only ones who knew its location, and then Cicero and I were the only ones with keys to chamber. The intention was that if our sanctuary was seized again, Cicero and I had means to protect the Night Mother, even if it meant locking ourselves in the room and starving to death while guards patrolled upstairs.

            I sat down on one of the benches in the third row, removing my dark cowl out of respect for the Night Mother. I knew in my heart that she probably didn’t mind it, but I always revealed my face anyway. I relaxed in my seat, the cold room’s temperature breezing against my flesh. I’d grown to like the cold in the time since we moved to Dawnstar, and I always enjoyed the cool air against my cheeks.

            Looking up at the coffin, I sat in silence for a long time. More often than not, I came down to the shrine to meditate, to bask in the silence that came with the room and with Mother. On occasion, I would come down here to speak with Mother, aside from being given a contract. Sometimes I had to talk to someone, other than a member of the family, and though she rarely responded, I knew she always listened.

            I laughed to myself, thinking of the first time Mother had spoken to me. It had been so long ago, nearly two years, and it still felt like a recent memory. The dark of the coffin, the surprise I’d felt when her voice whispered within my skull. It was funny now, to remember it like that, since that action singularly changed the Dark Brotherhood forever.

            Memories were also funny to me, how they varied and sloped in your mind, how some faded but others were permanently carved into the back of your eyes. I had many memories from before I was recruited by Astrid, but the vast majority of my memories were of only the Brotherhood. I remembered my first real contract, given to me by a young woman in Markarth. I remembered the best contract I’d ever gone on, the wedding I’d attended with my favorite people. I even remembered the best stew Nazir ever made, the beef stew for Arnbjorn’s birthday so long ago.

            I smiled to myself as I remembered my fallen family, my fallen friends. It had been so long since I’d spoken to them, but not a second passed where I didn’t think of them. I remembered Festus’ long and boring stories, and Gabriella’s constant sarcasm. I remembered Arnbjorn’s gruff attitude but also his kind heart, and I remembered how much Astrid had loved her family, even though she chose a poor way to show it.

            My smiled faded as I realized I couldn’t remember exactly what Veezara looked like anymore. I knew his features exactly, his green scales and kind eyes, a soft smile and a melodic laugh that was utterly contagious. He had scars on the side of his face, but how long did they stretch? There was one crooked tooth in his mouth that showed when he smiled, but which one was it? Which hand did he use to grip his torso when he laughed too hard? Why couldn’t I remember?

            I knew why, and it was because all I saw when I thought of Veezara was his body in the rubble of the Falkreath sanctuary. If I tried hard enough, I would see him waiting in the water below the wall of Solitude, or the kiss we shared in my old room, or the smile on his face as I left on contract with Festus. I always found my way back to his body, though, whenever I heard his name, so we stopped saying it all together.

            It was difficult to talk about any of them, and not because we couldn’t find the strength, but because no one would understand. As kind and eager to learn as they were, the recruits would never understand. It was one thing to tell a story, but it was something special to have actually known them, and we could never give them that.

            Taking a deep breath, I looked up at the coffin again, then at the sound of a key in the door behind me. As it opened, the jester poked his head inside and offered me a small smile. He never played in this room, seeing it as disrespectful to Mother, and he removed his jester’s cap as he shut the door behind him.

            Cicero walked toward me slowly, ringing his hat in his hands. He sat beside me with a sigh, looking up at Mother’s coffin as I had moments before.

            “I thought I’d find you down here.” he said, looking back at me and smiling. “Has Mother been speaking, or are you hiding?”

            I exhaled softly in slightly audible laughter. “I was meditating, but you’ve ruined that now, haven’t you?”

            “I have.” he said, shaking his head. The rings in his right ear jingled as he did, and I reached up to straighten a few of the studs that had become crooked. A few months before, Cicero had gone on a streak of severe style change. He had paid a woman in Windhelm nearly two hundred septims for the rings and studs in his ears, then used the jewelry to pierce his ear himself. He had six piercing on his right ear and that ear alone, saying they felt too heavy on the other side.

            That wasn’t the only change he’d made, though. He’d gone to Markarth and somehow convinced a Forsworn to teach him how to give tattoos. Since then, Cicero had been using a stick-and-poke method to give himself all sorts of little tattoos: a heart inside of his elbow, a long dagger on his forearm, and the letter ‘A’ on his left wrist. He never explained any of them, no matter how many times I asked, and they were always covered by his long sleeves and thick gloves, so I didn’t see the point in them.

            “I’m sorry I threw a dagger at you.” he said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all.

            I smirked. “No apology needed until you actually hit me with something.”

            “I guess I’ll never apologized, then.” Cicero said, laughing as he spoke. “Soon enough, you won’t even have to lift a blade to kill a man.”

            “One can only hope, especially if you’re teaching the recruits how to use weapons. I’ll have to donate all of my daggers to that cause.”

            “They’re not so bad.” he insisted. “They’re young, and they need guidance.”

            I raised an eyebrow. “And you’re the one to offer that guidance?” I shook my head, laughter in the back of my throat. “Sithis help us all.”

            Cicero gave me a nudge. “I’m not quite as mad as I once was.”

            It was true, he really wasn’t. After all of his years in complete silence and solitude while he protected the Night Mother’s coffin, Cicero had lost a fair amount of his sanity to the laughter in his head. Through the years that passed, though, he gradually came back to himself. I think it helped him that Mother could speak again, that he knew all of his decisions had paid off.

            Though he was still loud and exuberant, and honestly quite annoying, the Keeper was alone in his mind most of the time. Very rarely, a simple word or a phrase would set him off, and Cicero would have a breakdown of sorts. He would smash things and scream and hurt people without meaning to, the laughter in his head taking control for long enough to do a significant amount of damage. It would pass, though, and he would return to normal shortly after. He didn’t even speak in third person anymore, aside from the occasions in which the laughter was in charge.

            Cicero was a good man under all of the crazy, and I knew that in the deepest parts of my heart. It was a lot to handle sometimes, but I couldn’t stop myself from loving him. Especially since the tables had turned for him and I, and he never batted an eye at my frequent panic attacks.

            Since Falkreath, since the fire and the burnt flesh and Veezara, it was hard for to function as I used to. I was so happy in the beginning, when I’d joined the Brotherhood, but I couldn’t use that word to describe myself now. I wasn’t able to sleep for a long time, even more so than my previous insomnia, because I had night terrors every time I closed my eyes. For nearly six months, I didn’t sleep, I hardly ate, and I very rarely spoke to anyone outside of relaying contracts from the Night Mother.

            Cicero never left my side, though, and I owed my peace with everything that had happened to no one more than him. He talked me down from every moment I spent hyperventilating on the floor of my bedroom, he calmed me down while I was unconscious and screaming because I was seeing Veezara in my head, and he carried me in from the fields outside when they were the only place I could manage to fall asleep. Cicero saved me, just as he swears I saved him.

            “Arabella?”

            The sound of his voice brought me back to the room, and I turned toward him again. “I’m sorry, Cicero. What did you say?”

            He put his hand on the side of my face. “Are you alright? You were gone a long time.”

            I blinked, trying to recall how much time had passed. “I’m sorry.”

            “It’s okay.” he said, reaching for my hand and twisting it so my palm was facing up. He ran is thumb over the corner of my left wrist. “You know, you should really let me give you a tattoo. A little black hand, right here.”

            “I don’t know where your little needles have been.” I said, laughing quietly.

            “They’re very clean, I promise.” He said with a little smirk. “You would look nice all tattooed. I could tattoo that eyeliner on, and you’d never have to draw it on again.”

            My hand shot up to my eyes, knowing he meant the black makeup around them “I don’t want your needles near my eyes, dear. Thank you for the offer though.”

            He shrugged, running his fingers through his shoulder length hair. “Your choice.”

            My eyes widened, watching him brush his hair away from his face. “Cicero, did you shave your head?” I reached up to move the hair over his pierced ear to reveal the short hair on the side of his head.

            “I did! I did!” he exclaimed, flipping his hair to the left to show me. “It looks great, right?”

            I laughed to myself, amazed that he just did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. “It does, actually. I like it.”

            He smiled. “I thought you would.”

            _Daughter, embrace me._

            My head snapped toward the coffin in front of us, and I stood to move quickly toward it. Though mother frequently told me to approach her and stand in revered silence, she rarely told me to enter her coffin. Cicero slid to the side to let me by, then stood and watched with eager eyes.

            I unlocked her coffin, ignoring the quiet grumbles of protest from Cicero behind me. Stepping inside, I stood stiffly, trying to avoid touching her as the doors shut behind me.

            _Speak to the vengeful matriarch in Riften, at the Black-Briar Manor._

            “Of course, Mother.” I said, raising my head and thinking the instructions were concluded.

            _There is more. You have free rein over this contract, daughter. Sithis is due a soul, but it is your blade that chooses whose blood will spill._

            I shook my head. “I don’t understand, Mother. Why am I to decide?”

            _You will understand in time. Make your choice. Make your kill._

            A choice. A kill. Her familiar words made my hands tremble, reminding me that Astrid had said those same words so long ago. I clenched my fists, trying to steady them. “As you will it, Mother.”

            I turned away from her, pushing the doors to the coffin open and stepping back out. Cicero waited nearby, his eyes filled with as much confusion as I had in mine.

            “What did Mother say?” he asked, reaching for my hand to help me down.

            I looked up at him with furrowed brows. “We have a contract.”

 

 

            “I still don’t understand.” Cicero said, trailing close behind me. Night had fallen many hours ago, and we were alone in the dead silence that surrounded us.

            “I’m not sure that I do either.” I replied, stepping over a large rock in my way. I’d changed out of my typical dress for the contract, and I was thankful to be in my armor. My dress definitely would have torn in the tall grass that surrounded the building we were approaching.

            This contract had given us a run for our money, and it had better pay off. Our contact was none other than Maven Black-Briar herself, performing the black sacrament in a locked room in her basement.

            _“It’s about damned time you showed up.”_ she had said. _“I’ve been sending letters to Astrid for weeks with no reply, and I had no choice but to perform this dreadful ritual.”_

            _“Astrid is dead, Maven.”_ I had explained to her, my voice low and dark. _“Long dead, actually. We’re under new management, and the only way to reach us is through this ritual.”_

            _“I don’t care, child. I just want my bidding done. Is that too much to ask?”_

            _“You’re talking to us all wrong, woman.”_ Cicero had spit at her. _“Show some respect or it will be you at the end of the blade, and I don’t mean the end with the handle.”_

            Maven had laughed. “ _You have no idea who you’re trifling with.”_ A larger man stepped out of the shadows, tall and gruff, with black hair and angry eyes. _“I have a contract, and I’m willing to pay handsomely.”_

            _“Just give us the details, Black-Briar. Spit it out.”_ I was growing impatient, and I didn’t like playing the ‘let’s-compare-muscle’ game.

            She had sighed, standing from the ground and staring down at me _. “I want the Dragonborn’s wife killed. I don’t care how you do it, but I don’t want it traced back to me. Is that perfectly clear?”_

            So, we had set out to figure out who the Dragonborn actually was. We’d been given a very brief description, a tall Nord with dirty blond hair and brown eyes, but we didn’t have anything else to go on. This was a complicated task, for various reasons.

            The first reason was that the Dragonborn’s true identity had always been a secret to the people of Skyrim, a smart move on his part. All that was known about him was that he was the Thane of Whiterun, and he’d fought alongside the Stormcloaks in the Rebellion last year. We could go to Windhelm, ask around and see what we could dig up, but that was a dangerous game. It was too easy for our questions to tip off a guard, and we couldn’t risk being imprisoned.

            Another complicated aspect was that even if we did find the Dragonborn and enter his home, we had no idea what he was capable of. Cicero and I weren’t sure what was legend and what was fact, and if this man really could kill us with a single word, we had to tread carefully.

            The final reason, and the one that worried me the most, was the concept of assassinating his wife and not waking him. I imagined a husband and wife would sleep in the same bed, obviously, and if we woke the Dragonborn, we’d be faced again with problem number two.

            We had traveled around, asking for even the tiniest bit of information with absolutely no leads when it hit us. The person we needed to ask had to be someone who hated the Dragonborn enough to give us the information, someone who knew enough about him to actually be of some use. Cicero had finally come to the conclusion: we needed to talk to the man who’d named him Thane, then had his throne snatched from beneath him.

            We’d traveled to the Blue Palace, walking down the steps to the basement where Jarl Balgruuf lived, along with the rest of the Imperial Jarls. We had managed to get a few drinks in him, get him drunk enough to give us a glimmer of information.

            _“That damned traitor? The Dragonborn is the most pompous, arrogant fool I’ve ever met, and I regret ever trusting him.”_

            Cicero had smiled. _“Anything else you can tell us? A name or a location?”_

            Balgruuf had been skeptic. _“What’s in it for me?”_

            I’d leaned across the table, dropping a small pouch of coins in front of him. _“A name or a location would be so helpful, and I trust a noble man like you seeks vengeance.”_

            Balgruuf smiled. _“That’s what I’m talking about. He lives in Whiterun. Breezehome.”_

            The series of events took us back across Skyrim to Whiterun, where Cicero dressed in street-clothes borrowed from Mikael, an old friend of mine, and he knocked on the door. A young woman answered the door, and I thought for sure we had our target.

            _“Excuse me, fair maiden, but I was wondering if the Dragonborn was home. I was hoping to speak with him.”_

            She had narrowed her eyes _. “The Dragonborn doesn’t live here anymore, actually.”_ She’d folded her arms and leaned against the frame. _“I know him, though. Maybe I can help.”_

            _“I owe him a fair amount of coin, you see, and I was hoping to deliver it to him.”_ Cicero had lied, leaning into the doorway to look around.

            The woman stepped in front of him, blocking Cicero’s view. _“I’m sorry, but he really doesn’t live here. He moved about a year ago. I could deliver the coin to him, though. I make my way to his home fairly regularly.”_ Her eyes darted to where I was standing, nearer to the Drunken Huntsman than her home.

            Cicero inhaled deeply, then groaned, and I knew that meant one of two things: either she owned an animal or she smelt like an animal. Cicero hated pets of all sorts, especially dogs, and he turned in my direction, asking silently for instructions.

            I stepped toward them. _“Leave the coin with her, dearest.”_ I said to him. _“I just want our debt settled.”_ I conjured a fake laugh. _“My husband here is a terrible gambler. Took us three years to save up the coin we owe him.”_

            Cicero laughed too, pulling a pouch of coins from his hip and dropping it into the woman’s hand. _“Oh yes. The Dragonborn never loses a bet, it would seem.”_

            The woman relaxed, seeming to believe us _. “He never does. I’ll be sure to bring this to him next time I visit Lakeview.”_

            I made a mental note, suppressing a grin as she gave us the last bit of information we needed. That’s how we found ourselves out in the dead of night, wandering through the tall grass toward the large house built on top of the patch of land that had been named Lakeview by the people of Falkreath. As we walked, Cicero stubbed his toe on a rock as he tried to step over it.

            “Damnable rocks. The Dragonborn could do some yardwork, you know.” he grumbled, kicking a rock to the side and then crying out again.

            “Maybe if you’d worn armored boots like I said, you wouldn’t keep knocking your foot against hard rocks.”

            “Shut up, Listener. I put on the armor. You didn’t say anything about boots or gloves.” Cicero countered, giving my ear a gentle squeeze and a wiggle. Cicero loved pulling stunts like this to make me angry when I wasn’t specific enough. He never refused an order, but that didn’t mean he never followed them exactly either.

            The house approached in the distance, and I took a moment to bask in the large shadow it cast in the moonlight. We crouched as we approached, choosing not to take the front door and instead climbing the steps to the balcony overlooking the lake. Cicero crouched before the door, pulling a lockpick from his sleeve and placing it in the lock.

            “Now, Listener,” he whispered, looking up at me with a mischievous grin. “I’m to go in and find the Dragonborn’s wife so you can kill her, or not kill her apparently. Is that all?”

            “Yes, Keeper. That’s all.”

            “And I have no further instructions or commands. Just to find the Dragonborn’s wife.”

            I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out the game he was playing. “That’s your only order. What game are you playing?”

            He smirked, turning back to the door. “No game at all, Listener. Humble Cicero lives to serve.” He was definitely up to something. He never said that anymore.

            Cicero pushed the door open quietly, and we slinked inside. We nodded to each other, staying close and paroling through the upstairs hallway. The two of us, our steps muffled by our boots, traveled from room to room looking for the Dragonborn’s wife.

            Deciding there was no one upstairs, we walked down the steps to the large eating area in the center of the house. There were papers and books scattered across the tables, and I looked through them while Cicero checked the room behind the fire pit. I picked up one folded piece of paper, obviously worn from being folded and unfolded again and again, and read the first bit.

            _Cassius,_

_I had hoped to catch you before we left, but part of me knew you wouldn’t be home. I know you’re probably confused about why Vilkas and I have left so suddenly, and I can explain that._

            I blinked, recognizing both of the names in the letter, though I couldn’t remember where I had heard them before. I set the paper down without continuing just as Cicero returned from the back room, a strap across his shoulder that hadn’t been there before. I walked toward him, turning his shoulder to see a crossbow hanging from his back. I grabbed his chin between my thumb and index finger, furrowing my brow and shaking my head ‘no’.

            Cicero only smiled, a smile I knew all too well. I never said he couldn’t take anything from the home, only that he was supposed to find the Dragonborn’s wife. I clenched my jaw, vowing I’d make him pay for that later. The idea of Cicero with a crossbow worried me, especially after that incident with the bow and arrows a few months early. Nazir still sort of walked with a limp every once in a while.

            Cicero nodded toward the set of double doors to our right, and we moved toward them, pushing one open and slipping inside. Beyond the door, the room was sort of divided in two. On one half of the room was a large bed with two sleeping figures, and on the other side was a crib, a small child sleeping within.

            I nodded to Cicero, signaling him to check the man in the bed to see if he fit the description Maven had given us. Cicero stood over the snoring Nord for only a moment before nodding, and I moved to the woman beside him.

            Taking a breath, I drew the dagger from my hip, holding at the sleeping woman’s throat. She was actually lovely, dark hair and soft features, but a brow that wore worry. I relaxed my shoulders, tensed my arms to make the cut.

            Cicero raised a hand, signaling me to stop. I looked up at him, brows furrowed in confusion. He only pointed down at the man in front of him, then gestured for me to come to him.

            I removed my blade, holding it in my hand as I walked toward the other side of the bed. Cicero stepped aside to let me look down at the Nord, the Dragonborn.

            My jaw dropped after a moment of assessment, and I stepped away. His hair was shaggy, shorter than Cicero’s but longer than it should be. He had a thick beard, sparse in the section around his mouth to reveal burn scars trailing around his lips. His brows were thick, bringing the ruddy look he had together, but I knew the man from that moment forward.

            He was Cassius, the man from the field in Dawnstar nearly a year ago. I stared at Cicero, who nodded in confirmation, letting me know that he knew who he was too. Cassius had been with the other men, the two I’d been searching for, seeking since I left Balimund when I was just nineteen.

            I heard the voices in my head, memories from that day. _“Shut the hell up, Cassius! Stop!”_ the burly, dark Nord had yelled, clutching his dead brother in his arms.

            Cassius had blinked, shaking his head and apologizing. _“I’m sorry, Farkas.”_

            The large man, Farkas, just melted into sobs, repeating the dead man’s name again and again. _“Vilkas…”_

            I had brought the man, Vilkas, back from death that day. I couldn’t control myself, knowing who they were and knowing that I couldn’t let him die. Not after all of this time, searching for family. Cicero and I had fled back to the sanctuary, and I’d holed myself in my room with the Keeper, trying to make sense of the whole thing.

            _“Why the hell did you do that, Arabella?”_ he’d asked, grabbing me by the shoulders. _“Do you realize what you’ve done? What if they followed us back here? What if they find the sanctuary and alert the guards?”_

            _“They won’t!”_ I’d yelled, jerking away from him. _“They won’t do anything!”_

            _“You can’t know that!”_ Cicero had screamed. _“We don’t save anyone but ourselves. That’s how it’s always been. You’ve put the entire sanctuary in danger! The entire family!”_

            I’d shaken my head, trying to explain myself to Cicero, but ultimately being unable to as I was reminded of the flames and fact that I couldn’t save Veezara. I’d managed to save another man, though, and that’s what Veezara would have wanted me to do. If it had been anyone else, I would have left them in the fields to die, and that’s what Cicero couldn’t understand.

            I never had another panic attack after that, my mind occupied on finding those two men, Farkas and Vilkas, again and talking to them. I needed to know if they were who I thought they were, and I couldn’t risk that on this contract.

            I stepped away from the bed, taking Cicero’s hand and leading him away from the house. He didn’t make a sound as he followed, not until we’d run all the way to the fields near the Guardian Stones.

            “Arabella, we can’t abandon this contract. Sithis is due a soul.” he said, taking my hand and pulling me toward him. “I know it’s difficult for you, but it has to be done. I’ll do it if you need me to.”

            I stared up at him. “Mother gave me a choice, Cicero. She said I could decide whose blood would spill, who went to the Void. It can’t be her. I need Cassius.”

            Cicero put his hands on his hips, looking down at me challengingly. “Then you’re going to have to start explaining, because this is confusing me.”

            “I need Cassius to find my way to the twins, Cicero. They’re who I’ve been looking for all this time, after all these years.” I smiled at him, a huge grin as I realized that this was why Mother had given me the choice. She knew this was how I would find my family. “We’ll take Maven instead, or her henchman, I don’t care. I’ll let you do it, too! It will be fun!”

            Cicero blinked at me, no doubt thinking me to be utterly mad. I hadn’t smiled in so long, he probably found it disturbing. “If that’s Mother’s will, I’ll stand behind you. But you have to tell me why this has happened, Arabella. I can’t help you find them if you don’t tell me why we’re searching. Why you saved them. Why you care.”

            I took his hand again, staring up at him with wide, excited eyes. “Do you remember what I told you about my family?”

            “Of course.” he said. “Your parents were bandits. They left you at that orphanage when you were…eight?”

            “Yes!” I said, bouncing beside him. “But do you remember what I told you about my father?”

            Cicero thought for a moment. “You said he left you and your mother before she took you to the orphanage.”

            “Why?”

            His eyes widened, putting the pieces together for himself. “You mother was his mistress, and he left you to return to his other family.”

            I nodded slowly. “His wife and two sons. I have brothers.”

            He put his hand on the side of my face, running his thumb over the scars across my eyebrow. “Arabella, I know that this is an exciting possibility for you, but you don’t know that they’re your brothers. You’re hanging on to an idea that may not even be reality.”

            “Think about it, Cicero. My mother was a high elf, tall with golden skin and blond hair, striking yellow eyes and prominent narrow face. I don’t look anything like her! But my father was a Nord, dark complexion and slate gray eyes.”

            Cicero nodded. “So you look more like him. That doesn’t—”

            “Didn’t you see their eyes, Cicero?” I said, leaning against his chest. “Have you ever, in your entire life, seen anyone else with eyes like mine? They both looked identical to my father. It has to be them.”

            Cicero sighed, wrapping his arms around me and holding me against him. “Are you absolutely sure?”

            “I’ve never been so sure about anything.” I said to him, looking up again at the stubble on his chin.

            With a moment spent in thought, Cicero finally sighed again, exhaling loudly as he leaned down to kiss me. When he pulled away from me, he raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I’ll kill Maven Black-Briar or her Nord or someone so you can do this. But only if you promise that Mother would approve of this decision.”

            I nodded. “I do. I promise.” I’d never believe anything more. Mother had known, and she gave me an opportunity to find my brothers. My family.

            “Alright.” he said, spinning me around in a little dance. “Let’s kill someone.”


	2. A Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karalissa and Vilkas travel to Lakeview Manor for their niece's birthday. Later, Cassius receives a rather perplexing letter.
> 
> POV: Karalissa

            I sighed, pushing the papers away from the table in front of me, searching for the forms I needed to run up to Dragonsreach.

            “Is somethin’ wrong?” Codus asked as he entered my office, a smile on his face as he shut the door quietly behind him. I looked up at him, well aware that I was a disheveled mess, and honestly not caring.

            “Hello, Codus.” I said, rummaging through the papers on my desk. “I’m sorry, I lost track of time. I can’t even find the forms Vignar needs.”

            “There’s no rush, Harbinger. I’m not doing anythin’ else today.” Codus sat in a chair at the round table in the center of the room. The boy had bulked up in the year he’d been with the Companions, and he’d become one of our strongest warriors. Even still, Codus was a kind young man, and he frequently ran errands for me when I just couldn’t. Since today was a busy day for me, he had offered to transport some files to Dragonsreach on my behalf.

            I groaned, sliding paper after paper out of the way, and still not seeing what I needed. Codus laughed, relaxing in his chair. “Do you need some help?”

            “No, no.” I said, laughing to myself as I tucked my hair behind my ear. It had grown back to nearly the length I liked, but it was always in the way. When it was short, I didn’t have to push it away from my face all the time. Now that it stretched past my chest, it was becoming as problematic as it used to be. “I’m just having a very…full day.”

            “Why’s that?” he asked, his tone conveying true curiosity. Codus was always very eager to spend time talking to me, and in all honesty, I loved to talk to him. He was very bright, well-spoken and clever, and he could hold a conversation for hours. He’d become one of my favorite people.

            I shook my head. “I didn’t wake up as early as I would have liked, so I didn’t finish everything I needed to finish today before I leave for Lakeview with Vilkas, and I haven’t even had time to get a present for my niece, and the whole reason we’re going out there is because today is her birthday, so I’m just trying to find this damned paper so—”

            “By the Gods, Harbinger. You’re going to give yourself an aneurism.” Codus laughed, standing from his seat and walking toward my desk. “What are we lookin’ for?”

            I covered my eyes with my hands. “A stack of papers. They’re clipped at the top.” I told him, removing my hands and searching again. “It’s titled ‘Monthly Job Reports’.”

            “Ah, Harbinger?” Codus began. I looked up at him, only to see him pointing at the table he had just been sitting at. “Is that it?”

            I rolled my eyes back into my head, groaning loudly as I walked toward the table, Codus trailing behind me and laughing. I handed him the papers, giving him a nudge to cease his laughter. “I’m sorry, Codus. Here are the papers.”

            “I’ll run them up to Jarl Vignar right now.” he said, smiling as he strode toward the door. Just before he touched the handle, the door opened, and Vilkas pushed inside. “Oh, hello Vilkas!”

            Vilkas grunted. “Hello.” He stood in the frame, his hand behind his back, waiting for Codus to leave. After a moment, Codus took the hint, analyzing Vilkas’ angry stare and gruff grimace. With a small wave to me, he left the room, and Vilkas quickly shut the door behind him.

            “His name is Codus.” I said, raising my eyebrow at my husband.

            He smiled a little. “I knew that.” I stared at him, waiting for a confession. “Alright, alright. I forgot his name. There are too many whelps, I get confused.” Vilkas wasn’t lying. There were a lot of new recruits, many that honestly weren’t recruits at all. After the war, Galmar had sent a lot of Stormcloak soldiers our way, as he had promised Vilkas. We didn’t have a spare bed in Jorrvaskr now, and we’d actually had to expand the whelp’s quarters to house all of the new Companions.

            “Codus isn’t exactly new.” I said, sitting in the chair at the table in center of the room. I rested my head on the table, releasing a long sigh. “I haven’t finished everything I needed to.”

            Vilkas laughed, walking toward me and standing behind me. He moved my long hair to kiss the back of my neck. “You worry too much. Just finish your work tomorrow.”

            I exhaled sharply, laughing to myself. “Yeah, I guess I could just do that.” Vilkas pulled out the chair beside me, and I lifted my head as he dropped a package on the table before me. I smiled, turning toward him. “What’s this?”

            He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Open it.”

            “You know I hate surprises.” I said, taking the package and undoing the strings.

            Vilkas snorted. “And you know you’re a bad liar.”

            I tore the paper away to reveal a pair of soft, leather boots. I ran my hands over the material, admiring that it wasn’t thick like leather boots usually were. “They’re boots!” I said, picking one up and holding it in my hand. I traced the straps across the front with my fingers.

            “Great work, Kara.” Vilkas grumbled. When I glared at him, he laughed. “They’re new boots. I know you think leather boots are too thick and clunky, but these are thin.” He took the other boot, turning it over for so I could see the bottom. “The soles aren’t made with wood or steel. I had them made with coarse hide, so they’ll still feel like slippers, but you’ll actually have some support. They’re like your cloth boots, but…not. I skinned and tanned that leather myself.”

            With a huge grin, I kicked off my cloth boots and slipped the new boots over my bare feet. He was right, they felt nearly identical to my boots of choice, but they looked so much better, reaching the middle of my calf and hardly touching my leg at all, yet staying firmly on my feet. I bounced around, testing to see if they would come off, but they never did. Vilkas laughed as he watched me jump and shake my feet, shaking his head.

            “I love them, Villy. They’re perfect! Thank you.” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning over his shoulder. He smiled, satisfied with my response, and he turned his head to kiss me. I shut my eyes, savoring the few seconds we shared before he pulled away from me.

            “Don’t we need to leave for your brother’s house?” he asked, pushing my hair behind my ear. “It’s nearly midday.”

            I sighed, standing up straight again. “Yes, we need to leave. I didn’t get Catriona a present, though.”

            Vilkas stood, stretching his arms. “We’ll stop at Belethor’s, then.”

            “Ha! Good idea, Villy. I didn’t even think of that.” I said, grabbing my satchel from the shelf behind me and walking toward the door. As I walked out of the room, Vilkas lingering behind, I continued. “You know, Vilkas, my brother was asking about you last week. He said you’d better keep training if you want to—”

            My sentence was cut short as a large, hooded figure collided with me, scooping me off of the ground and tossing me over their shoulder, then carried me down the hall and up to the main room of Jorrvaskr. Another hooded figured trailed closely behind us, a dagger in its hand and a nearly unrecognizable face. I heard Vilkas following after us, running quickly to catch up and yelling obscenities, but we were out the front door before he could close the distance between us.

            I pounded against the figures back, wiggling to try to escape, but it only gripped me tighter, running toward the front gate of Whiterun. Without the guards even looking up from their papers, they continued to run out into the fields. The figure behind us pointed left, and the thing holding me turned toward a lake nearby.

            It tossed me onto the ground, and the smaller hooded figure held their dagger to my throat. I shut my eyes, ready to take whatever pain they were planning on inflicting upon me. Vilkas couldn’t be far behind. He would help.

            The figures erupted into gales of wild laughter, and recognizing the sound, I smacked the face of the figure over me. As her hood fell away, Aela rolled onto the ground beside me, clutching her stomach and screaming with laughter.

            Farkas removed his hood too, lowering himself to lay on the other side of me. The two of them were crying from laughing so hard, and I just stared up at the sky, asking the gods what I’d done to earn such annoying friends.

            “What the hell is the matter with you two?” I asked, sitting up and turning to face them.

            Aela cackled even louder. “Oh my gods, Lissa, you should have seen your face! You were all, ‘Oh no, I’m being kidnapped.’”

            “Shut up, Aela.” I said, shoving a handful of dirt in her direction. It spattered across her chest, and that only made her laugh harder.

            “Did you hear Vilkas?” Farkas said from the other side of me. “He probably pissed himself!” He covered his face with his hands, wiping tears away from his cheeks.

            I stood, wiping dirt off of my armor. “What made you two think that this would be funny? I have a birthday party to go to, you know.”

            Farkas sat up. “Is that today? Sorry, Lissa, I forgot.”

            I shook my head, smiling as I nudged him with my foot. “Where did you even get those cloaks?”

            Aela rolled backwards on her neck, tumbling over her head and landing on her feet. She hopped around me as she answered. “We found them. They were in Eorlund’s house.”

            “Did you break into the House of Clan Gray-Mane?” I asked, laughing in disbelief.

            Aela shrugged, a sly grin on her face. “Maybe.”

            As she spoke, still bouncing around me, Vilkas approached. His face wore worry, but as he saw that it was only Aela and Farkas, his expression transitioned into annoyance. He put his hands on his hips, walking toward us and trying to catch his breath. “You think this shit is funny?”

            Farkas shook his head as he stood. “No. We think it’s hilarious.”

            Vilkas sighed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me back against his chest. “Are you alright?”

            “Of course she’s alright!” Aela said, hopping up onto Farkas’ back. He wrapped his arms under her legs, holding her up. “What did you think we would do? Take her out into the woods and absolutely ravish her? You should have seen your face, Vilkas.” Aela grinned as she mocked Vilkas’ accent. “Kara! Kara! No!”

            As Farkas and Aela screamed with laughter again, Vilkas grumbled in utter disapproval, though I could feel that he found it sort of funny too. Though Vilkas rarely participated in the shenanigans Aela and Farkas conducted, he always got a kick out of them.

            Farkas grabbed me by the arm, crushing me against him in a one-armed bear hug. “We would never hurt little Lissa. She’s just a baby.”

            “I am not.” I mumbled into his chest, struggling for air. “You two are very funny. Now let me go.”

            He released me, and I smiled as I picked my satchel up off of the ground. Aela sighed, resting her chin on the top of Farkas’ head. “Say, can we borrow your home while you’re away?”

            Vilkas jerked his head back, grimacing in confusion. “Borrow it? What does that even mean?”

            Farkas bounced to reposition Aela higher up on his back. “We just want to use your fire pit.”

            “There’s a fire pit in Jorrvaskr.” Vilkas said, narrowing his eyes.

            “Yes, but we’re doing an experiment.” Aela explained. “We’re trying to figure out if fruit tastes good charred. We wanted to use the pit in Jorrvaskr, but Tilma shooed us away.”

            “No, you can’t use our fire pit. Now go back home, both of you. And don’t drink too much. Talos knows you two get sillier the more you drink.” He turned toward the road, expecting me to come with him.

            I pulled the key to our house out of my pocket, tossing it toward Farkas, who caught it with one hand. I pressed a finger to my lips, signaling them not to tell Vilkas. Aela laughed. “Have fun with your brother!”

 

            Lakeview Manor wasn’t very far south of Whiterun, and it was actually just an hour’s walk away. After a small detour back into Whiterun to visit Belthor’s shop, we arrived at my brother’s home just after midday. We all sat in the large, main room of the first floor, scattered about the room in chairs and tables collectively.

            I was sitting on the tabletop, watching Vilkas play with Catriona. She was just a year old, today making it official, and already, she was beautiful. She had Lydia’s striking blue eyes and full lips, but she had my brother’s coloring. She had a little bit of golden-blonde hair on top of her little head, standing up in all directions as Vilkas laid on the floor on his back, holding Catriona above his head and making silly faces. She had a rhythmic laugh, soft and sweet, and she giggled every time Vilkas changed his expression.

            I couldn’t suppress a smile as I watched, my heart swelling as I acknowledged that Vilkas would be a wonderful father. Not that I had just realized it in that moment, because I’d known for a very long time, but watching his eyes sparkle as he held a tiny human in his hands just confirmed everything I’d ever felt. Though I wanted a child of my own no time soon, it was nice to know that our future children would never have to wonder if they were loved, because Vilkas and I would make sure they knew every day.

            I knew it was hard for Vilkas sometimes. His childhood was not the happiest, and I could see it took a toll on him some days. Vilkas never really knew his mother, he would never honestly know if his father ever loved him, and the one man who treated him like a loved son had passed away more than two years ago. My heart ached for my husband every time he spoke of Kodlak, feeling the wave of sheer pain that would shoot through his chest and seeing the anger flourish in his eyes.

            My brother and I didn’t have a bad childhood, in my opinion, but I never knew my father. He had left for the war when I was just as old as little Catriona, and I had no memories of him to hold on to. Cassius, though, remembered our father fondly. Though he couldn’t recall exactly what he looked like, or even what his voice sounded like for that matter, he remembers loving him dearly, and his heart breaking the day he left. The only father I had ever known was Viarmo, and I could whole-heartedly say he’s the only person in the world that I hated.

            And then poor Lydia, she was raised in home with six older brothers and misogynistic parents. They tried to marry her off to a neighbor, a farmer who was more than twice her age, and she had run away from her home and family because they didn’t love her for who she really was. She never spoke about her family to me, changed the subject when I would ask, and I knew it hurt her to think of them.

            I never wanted that for my children, to feel the way any of us felt. I loved seeing my brother and his wife cooing over their child, because I knew they felt the same way. The sight of my older brother, normally so ruddy and demanding and arrogant, melting into tears every time Catriona did something I’m sure all babies did: make a noise, roll over on the ground, hold up her hand, it was enough to break my heart. I would never forget the time Catriona laughed as Cassius held her, smiling up at him, and my brother had just cried because he had never loved a living thing more than he loved his daughter.

            My brother leaned against the staircase near me, watching Vilkas play with his baby. They had transitioned so that both of them were laying on the floor on their stomachs, facing each other. Vilkas had the doll we’d gotten for her from Belethor’s in front of her face, and he was making it walk around and talk to her. Catriona would just laugh and laugh, and Vilkas would make the doll kiss her face.

            Cassius smiled at me, his eyes watering as he listened to her laughter. I nudged him with my foot. “You’re not getting all worked up again, are you?”

            He blinked the tears away, grimacing for a moment, and then deciding he wouldn’t play tough. My brother looked back at me, a soft smile on his face beneath his bushy beard. “I might.” he admitted, folding his arms across his chest. “She’s just…she’s perfect.”

            Lydia wandered back into the room, a bowl of smooshed up baby food in her hand. She smirked at me, her blue eyes making the circles beneath them look even darker. Even exhausted, Lydia was beautiful. She nodded toward Cassius. “He does that at least once a day.”

            Cassius straightened up, shaking his head and trying to convey the look of being tough. “I do not, baby. Don’t listen to her, Karl. She’s lying.”

            Lydia rolled her eyes. “It’s an improvement, actually. Right after she was born, he sobbed for almost two days straight.”

            “No I didn’t!” my brother exclaimed, laughing as he spoke.

            “He did.” Lydia reassured, fixing the Catriona’s high chair for lunch and setting the mashed up food on the table. “He cried more than I did, the big softy. You should have seen it.”

            “Aww.” I cooed, poking my brother’s scruffy cheek. “Softy softy, Cassius.”

            He swatted my hands away. “Cut it out.”

            I watched as Lydia yawned, leaning against the table and watching Vilkas playing with the baby, a tired smile on her face. I hopped off of the table, walking toward her and wrapping my arm through hers. She smiled down at me, then returned her gaze to Vilkas.

            Vilkas sat up from their little game, lifting Catriona off of the floor and cradling her in his arms. He looked up at Lydia. “Catriona is a beautiful name, Lydia. What made you choose it?”

            “What makes you think I didn’t?” Cassius asked, repositioning himself against the stairs.

            Vilkas raised an eyebrow. “I recall you saying that if you had a daughter, you wanted to name her Fjorna or Fjilde.”

            “Fjoli.” Cassius corrected. He smiled at me.

            Lydia smirked. “Well, she looks almost exactly like my brother.”

            “Her favorite brother.” Cassius noted.

            “Yes, my favorite brother.” Lydia said, returning to her explanation. “His name is Carrion, so we just gave it a feminine twist. Plus, I thought it would be cute to call them ‘Cat and Cass’.”

            “I love that.” I said, smiling at Lydia

            “Thank you.” Lydia mumbled around a loud yawn. “Sorry.” she said, shaking her head and blinking a few times. Cassius yawned too, though he tried to suppress it. She smiled at him, shaking her head. “Cat wakes up two or three times a night to be fed. Then she eats, and Cass cries again, and then I have to spend another half hour putting both of the babies back to bed.”

            “Shut up.” Cassius muttered, yawning again.

            I leaned my head against Lydia’s shoulder. “I can feed the baby, you know. Villy and I can watch her if you two want to sleep.” Vilkas grinned, nodding in agreement.

            Lydia shook her head, straightening up. “Oh, no, Karalissa. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

            I lifted my head, bouncing around her. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. We can feed her and play with her for a while, and you two can take a nap. It’ll only be an hour or two, and it looks like you both need it.”

            Lydia and Cassius exchanged a look, speaking to each other silently. It was one of their tricks that fascinated me the most as I spent time with them over the passing years. They could have entire conversations with a single glance, an argument with the furrow of a brow, or tell a story with an appropriately placed smirk. They never had to speak to talk to each other, and I loved to watch it happen.

            After a moment, they both nodded. “Okay. But only for an hour.” Lydia said. “You come wake us up if we sleep a minute over.”

            I patted her back, scooching her toward her bedroom. “Of course, of course.” My brother followed behind us, not willing to pass up on an offer to sleep. As he passed Vilkas, who was now standing with the baby on his hip, Cassius stopped to hold her little hand and run his fingertips over her small nose. His eyes began to water again, so I reached for his arm and pulled him away too. “My gods, brother. Stop crying.” I laughed as I lugged his large arm toward his room.

            “Alright, alright.” he sniffled, wiping his eyes. “It’s just that we’ve never left her on her own before, and I don’t want to miss something important.”

            “By the Nine, Cass, stop doing that. You’re freaking me out.” I said, putting my hands on his back and actually pushing him away from the room. “Go to sleep.”

            Cassius nodded, placing his hand against Lydia’s back, but watching over his shoulder as I shoved them both into their room and shut the door. I turned back to Vilkas, who was smiling and bouncing the baby on his hip. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, and I moved to join them.

            “We’re not waking them up.” I said, my voice low enough that only Vilkas could hear it.

            He nodded, placing Catriona in her chair. “I know.” As he strapped her in the chair, he laughed to himself. “I’ve never seen him act like that before.” he said, his voice the same octave as mine.

            I shook my head in exasperation. “I know, I thought he’d be over it by now.” I sighed, lifting the bowl of baby food from the table and stirring it with the small spoon. “He’s probably just tired.” Right on cue, a loud snore came from the bedroom behind me. I pointed toward the sound with the spoon, and Vilkas laughed. I returned the spoon to the bowl, stirring it slowly. “Gods, this is disgusting.”

            As I offered a spoonful to Catriona’s eager mouth, Vilkas smiled. “I’ll give you twenty septims if you take a bite.”

            I shrugged, genuinely curious and not even interested in the coin. I took a mouthful of the stuff, moving the mushy substance around my tongue to try to identify the elements. It tasted like watered down carrots and potatoes, but it wasn’t entirely offensive.

            “It’s not that bad.” I said, offering Vilkas a bite as he slid the septims toward me.

He chewed it curiously for a moment, then nodded. “Aye. It’s actually pretty good.”

            I smirked, feeding another bite to Catriona. She smiled with every bite she took, truly happy to sit and be gawked at for hours upon end, a trait she likely inherited from my brother. Vilkas and I watched her eat in silence for a long time, only exchanging quiet laughter every time the baby smiled.

            Vilkas sighed. “She’s a great child.  So well-behaved, so happy.”

            I offered him a sideways grin. “You know, I’m honestly sort of surprised that you’re so fascinated with her.”

            Vilkas furrowed his brow. “Why do you say that?”

            “Because you’re such a grump all the time. You’re all moody and mean, and then you pick up a baby and you just smile and drool all over the place.”

            He raised an eyebrow, wiping Catriona’s face with a soft, cloth napkin. “I like babies.”

            “I can tell.” I said, trying to get Catriona to take another bite, but setting the spoon down as she refused any more food. “I just never thought about you being a…baby person. You’re going to be a good father.”

            Vilkas beamed at me, and I could feel the utter pride that swirled in his chest as I said those words. I knew it was important for Vilkas to feel that he wasn’t anything like Jergen, so I took a moment to point it out every once in a while.

            He sighed, shaking his head as he took the food from the table and walked it to the kitchen. “Gods, are we even old enough to have children?”

            “ _You_ are.” I said, taking Catriona from her chair and setting her in my lap. “Twenty-eight is plenty old enough.”

            “And twenty-three isn’t?” he called as he washed the bowl out.

            “No. It isn’t.” I said, bouncing the baby. “Give me a few more years.”

            Vilkas laughed. “A few more years sounds fine to me.” He was quiet for a moment, then he poked his head around the corner. “Didn’t your brother have a crossbow in here?”

            I furrowed my brow. “In the kitchen?”

            “Aye. He had it hanging above the oven.”

            I grimaced, raising an eyebrow. “I think you’re confusing it with something else, Villy. Why would he hang a crossbow over the oven?”

            Vilkas rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, he just did.” A few dishes clanked as he finished washing. “He said something about ‘Hot Crossbow Buns’.”

            I snorted. “Well, that’s just silly. I hope it’s gone.”

As Vilkas reentered the room, taking the seat across from me, Catriona began to nod off, just as tired as her parents. Vilkas reached out for her, and I placed her in his arms so he could hold her again.

           

            The remainder of our afternoon was spent holding the baby and playing with her when she would wake. Cassius and Lydia slept for nearly four hours, contrary to their ignored request to be woken after an hour, and they joined us again in the late evening. We’d all gone up to the balcony overlooking the lake for some fresh air, my brother and I beginning to feel cooped up as always.

            Vilkas and I sat on the bench nearest to the door, our fingers entwined and our hearts content. It had been a good day, quiet and spent in the company of a cute little Felstead. Vilkas sat with a smile on his scarred face, staring up at the sky and thinking about something unknown to me.

            Lydia sat at the table in the middle of the balcony, sleeping Catriona in her arms. It was so funny, seeing Lydia like this. She was probably the fiercest woman I knew, surpassing Aela ever since she’d become more interested in drinking and pulling pranks with Farkas. My brother sat beside her, a mug in his hand that contained milk instead of mead.

            I groaned. “For the love of Talos, we’ve all become old people.”

            Cassius scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “You two are always tired.” I said.

            Lydia smirked. “We have a baby, Karalissa.”

            “Well, I know that.” I said, rolling my eyes. “Cassius, you’re drinking milk out of a mug, and you haven’t done anything remotely Dragonborn in months. Not since that giant stomped all over your crops.”

            Cassius snuck a peak at Catriona to make sure she was really asleep, then he returned his gaze to me. “Damned giant smashed all of my vegetables. Came in and stepped on my cabbages and turned them to shit.” He smirked at me before he continued. “The Dragonborn is in retirement.”

            “Retirement is for old people.” I countered, raising an eyebrow.

            Cassius laughed quietly. “Then we’re old people. Really pretty old people.” he added, giving Lydia a nudge as he complemented both her and himself.

            Footsteps on the stairs made us all sit up, turning to see a courier ascending the steps toward us. He shrunk back a little as he saw my brother. Cassius was never really nice to couriers, insisting that he knew they always read his letters and it irritated him.

            As the courier stood on the top step, he held a folded envelope in the air. “Cassius Felstead?”

            Cass raised his hand. “Still here.”

            The courier stepped toward him. “Got something I’m supposed to deliver, your hands only.”

            “Yeah, yeah. I know. Just give me the damned thing.” my brother said, snatching the paper from the small man before he dashed off of the balcony and into the night again. Vilkas laughed as he watched, his shoulders shaking against mine.

            Cass opened the envelope and read through the paper. We all watched as he laughed to himself in the beginning, then how his brow furrowed toward the end. He looked up at Lydia. “It’s from Galmar.”

            “What does it say?” she asked him, her own eyes confused.

            Cassius looked over at me first, indicating that I should also listen in, as if I weren’t already. He cleared his throat before he began to read. “Cassius, I thought it might intrigue you and Lydia to know that Maven Black-Briar was found dead in the basement of her Manor two nights ago. Hoping you two didn’t have any connection to it, but then again, I don’t really care what hobbies you exercise outside of your day-to-day.”

            We all laughed as he continued. “The real reason I’m writing is because I need a favor of you. Ulfric is going through a bit of a rough patch, for many different reasons, but no reason more than the one that involves you directly. I hope you and your sister could come to the Palace of Kings at your earliest convenience and help him work this out. There’s a lot he needs to discuss with you, but his pride has gotten in the way of what is right.

            “I hope this letter finds you and your family well. Expecting to see you and your sister soon enough. Please come alone. Galmar.”

            I felt my own brow furrow. “What do I have to do with this?”

            “I don’t know.” Cass said, looking over the letter again. “Galmar never writes, though. It has to be serious.”

            “Come alone?” I asked. “Should we be concerned?”

            Cassius shook his head. “I don’t know, Karl. What I do know is you don’t keep a man like Galmar waiting.”

            “Maven Black-Briar was killed.” Lydia mumbled, shaking her head as she covered Catriona’s ears. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Bitch had it coming.”

            “Lydia!” Cassius exclaimed, laughing.

            “What?” she asked, a smirk on her face as she uncovered the baby’s ears. “All I’m saying is someone was bound to kill her at some point, with the way she treats people. Now, when are you two leaving?”

            Cassius sighed. “In the morning, I guess.” He turned to me. “Is that doable for you?”

            I shrugged. “I think so.” Then, I groaned. “I’m supposed to do a walkthrough of the Hold tomorrow with Codus.”

            Vilkas leaned forward. “I can do it. I should probably spend some time with your favorite whelp anyway.” He looked back at me. “That one is your favorite, right?”

            I rolled my eyes. “Yes. And he’s not a whelp anymore.” Vilkas just shrugged as I turned back to my brother. “Alright. We’ll leave in the morning.”

            Cassius nodded. “I hope this isn’t anything too extreme.” he said, reaching across the table to look down at Catriona again. “I don’t want to be gone too long.”


	3. A Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassius and Karalissa travel to the Palace of Kings in Windhelm to answer Galmar's letter. The information they receive is more than they expected.
> 
> POV: Cassius

            Karalissa and I climbed the steps to the Palace of Kings, walking nearly in sync with each other. My sister was wearing a long red sweater to combat the cold of Windhelm, her black trousers tucked into her leather boots. They were a lot nicer than the boots she had been wearing for so long, those ratty, cloth nightmares. I don’t know what compelled her to change them, but I was secretly glad she did.

            I had tried to freshen up, too. I’d pulled out one of my nicer sweaters, though it wasn’t exactly pristine, and I’d found a decent pair of trousers. I’d even washed my hair, which was honestly something I tried to avoid. I hated when it wisped around in the wind, and when it was dirty, it stayed where I wanted it to. My boots were not that good, but as I looked down at them, I decided that they were better than Karalissa’s old, ratty cloth boots.

            I looked up at her face, which was still looking down for me, since she was only around five-foot-ten. I tugged a piece of her long hair. “How do you get it to stay like that?” I asked, pointing at the style her hair was in. My guess was she wanted to look nice for Ulfric, who had just been named High King the month before. The top half of her hair was pulled back into a bun at the back of her head, while the underside hung loose, flowing over her shoulders as it always did.

            She made a face at me, like I was stupid or something. “Hair elastics, brother.” She reached up and pulled on my beard. “How do you get _this_ to stay like that?”

            “Masculinity.” I said simply, earning a quiet laugh from my sister.

            We had tried to come up with the options, what Ulfric could possibly need our assistance with. Karalissa and I agreed on one thing: we had no idea why she was asked to attend. Karalissa had wanted no part in the war, saying her duty was to protect the people of Whiterun and no one else. She had even very openly antagonized Ulfric the day we met with him before the rebellion began, interrogating him on his reasons for participating in a war she didn’t see the point in.

            It would have made sense for Ulfric to summon me in a time of crisis or concern. I’d fought next to him until the very end, when I was offered the honor of taking General Tulius down instead of him. I hadn’t seen Ulfric Stormcloak since the March on Solitude, and that was nearly a year ago.

            The moot had spent a long time waiting to name Ulfric High King of Skyrim, but now that he was in charge, I had heard rumor that he and Galmar were moving to a newly erected palace north of Winterhold to begin his reign. So when Karalissa and I walked into the Palace of Kings and saw only Galmar sitting in the throne in the long main room, we were confused.

            The older man stood, his face molded around the firm grimace on the lower half of his face. He still looked as he always had, a long blond beard and piercing blue eyes. He still wore his officer armor, adorned in the pelt of a bear and topped off with his little bear hat that I’d always found rather funny. He stood when we entered, striding toward us in a seemingly quiet manner.

            “Ah, Dragonborn. You received my letter.” he said, approaching us slowly. He shook my hand, his grip firm and his eyes solemn. Then he turned to my sister. “It’s good to see you again, Karalissa. I apologize for only sending your brother a letter. I would have sent one to you too, but I honestly can’t imagine how your long-ass name is spelled.”

            Karalissa smiled, genuinely humored by the explanation. “Well, I’d be happy to write it down for you, Galmar. Most everyone calls me Lissa, though, if you prefer.” Galmar just shrugged. “You could have sent the letter to Vilkas, of course. I would have received it one way or another.”

            Galmar sighed. “I don’t want your spouses involved just yet. We need to air this out first, then we can spread the news to whoever.”

            I felt my brow furrow. “We’re honored to be involved, Galmar, but we’re not exactly sure why we’re here.” Karalissa nodded in agreement.

            Again, Galmar sighed. “Well, it’s complicated.” He began, leading us across the long floor toward the planning room. “I don’t want to speak too much about it, simply because it’s not my information to share. Ulfric needs to be the one to discuss this with you, and he’s put it off for far too long. I tried not to meddle, because this is a touchy subject for him, but it can’t wait any longer. Not with the move.”

            “You’ve lost me again.” I noted, glancing at Karalissa, who simply followed behind Galmar with a casual smile on her face.

            Galmar paused outside of the door in the planning room. Putting his hand on the knob, he turned back to us. “He doesn’t know I’ve written to you. He actually asked me not to, so I imagine he won’t be pleased with me. Just…prepare yourselves for that.”

            My sister and I nodded, then followed after Galmar up the set of stairs beyond us, then down a long, dark hallway. Karalissa was preoccupied looking at the structure of the building, staring wide-eyed at the high ceilings and following the patterns carved into the wall with her eyes.

            As we moved further down the hall, a deep hum could be heard, low and melodic and I assumed belonging to Ulfric. Though, I couldn’t place the tune, it specifically reminded me of something I’d heard my mother singing once. I smiled at the memory, sitting at the table of our kitchen in Solitude and watching her cook while she sang the song that sounded so similar to this one. I knew it couldn’t be the same song, but I smiled anyway.

            Finally, Galmar entered the room at the very end of the hall, a study with walls up to the ceiling in books. At the large desk in the center, Ulfric sat in a huge, red chair and scribbled on the papers before him.

            As we entered, Ulfric saw Galmar and smiled, this goofy sort of grin that I’d never seen him use before. Then, his gaze rested on us, and his face drained of all color. Though Karalissa was all smiles, as usual, and I sort of shrugged at Ulfric because I still didn’t know why we were here, Ulfric stared blankly at the man standing in front of us.

            “Galmar, why have you done this?”

            “Because this has gone on long enough, Ulfric. I’ve kept your secrets for years, just as you’ve kept mine, but this secret is too big. It affects too many people, and I can’t let you continue to wallow.”

            Ulfric’s eyes grew angry. “I haven’t been wallowing. I’ve been preparing to run a country, and that requires a solemn attitude and level-head. How could you burden them with this? I’ve told you again and again that I don’t want—”

            Galmar laughed sarcastically. “You’re _wallowing_. You can lie to a lot of people, Ulfric, but you can’t lie to me. Now I’m tired of playing games. We’re settling this. Today.”

            They stared at each other for a long time, then Ulfric looked back at us. I tried to seem indifferent, rather than confused, and Karalissa’s gaze had wandered to the walls covered in books. Ulfric sighed, gesturing for Galmar to pull up some chairs.

            As Galmar moved two chairs to the side of the desk Ulfric wasn’t sitting on, Ulfric turned toward Karalissa. “You like books?”

            Karalissa beamed at him. “I love books. I’ve never seen so many in my whole life.”

            Ulfric sort of laughed to himself. “Well, this is just my office. You should see my library.” Ulfric leaned back in his chair as we sat in ours. “I consider myself an addict.”

            I snorted. “Then you and Karl should get along fine. She always has her nose in a book.”

            Karalissa leaned against her palm, resting her elbow on the top of the desk. I shook my head, admiring how quickly she’d made herself comfortable. “What’s your favorite book?” she asked Ulfric.

            Ulfric smirked. “Last Scabbard of Akrash.”

            Karalissa gasped, sitting straight up in surprise, then leaning toward him. “The last scabbard Akrash will be sheathed into will be your father’s heart. And when you are an orphan, you can free the slaves—”

            “—move to a more enlightened province, and marry who you’d like.” Ulfric finished for her, and Karalissa just gawked. “Impressive.”

            “Same to you.” she concluded. Galmar moved to stand near Ulfric, leaning against a bookcase behind him. “You know, I’ve never met anyone else who’s read that book before I suggest it to them. My husband just read it for the first time not too long ago.”

            Ulfric nodded. “Yes, how is Vilkas? We haven’t seen him since…the march for Riften?”

            Karalissa’s face fell slightly. “Well, yes. He was—well, he wasn’t able to continue with the war. He lost most of the function of his right hand.” I felt a pang of guilt in my heart, and Karalissa turned toward me to offer me a soft smile. “He’s well, now. He’s been training with all of the recruits you’ve sent to the Companions. Thank you for that, by the way.”

            Ulfric laughed to himself. “That was Galmar, not me. And I’m sorry to hear about Vilkas’ ailment. It pains me to hear that noble men become impaired fighting for me.” He turned to me. “And Lydia, how is she?”

            I cleared my throat. “Tired, most of the time. We don’t get much sleep anymore, with the little one up and about.”

            Ulfric’s eyes widened, his face growing softer than I’d ever seen. “You have a child now?” Galmar nearly choked on his own breath.

            “I do, yes.” I said, a smile on my face. “A daughter. She just turned a year old yesterday, actually.”

            “By the Gods.” Galmar mumbled, shaking his head in what seemed to be denial.

Before I could ask, Ulfric spoke. “You have a daughter.” he murmured. “This is incredible. Her name?”

            “Catriona Felstead.” I said, my chest welling up with joy for the millionth time.

            Karalissa must have felt it too, or so I assume. “You should see him at home. He cries when she does the smallest things. Once, he started sobbing because she smiled at him.”

            “Shut up, Karl.” I said, slightly embarrassed. Ulfric only laughed, a huge grin on his face. “I apologize, my King. I’m still overcome with…fatherly admiration.”

            Ulfric chuckled to himself. “That never goes away, I’m afraid. You’ll have to get used to it.” He turned to Karalissa again. “Don’t tell me you have children.”

            “Gods, no!” Karalissa exclaimed, leaning back in her chair as Ulfric laughed. “Not for several more years. I worry, though. My husband is all googly-eyed over my brother’s child, and I fear he may want one for himself.”

            “Gross.” I muttered under my breath, then I returned my attention to Ulfric. “Apologies, my King, but I’m still not sure why we’re here.”

            Ulfric’s face grew somber again. “Galmar hasn’t told you anything, I assume.” We shook our heads, as did Galmar. “Well, I suppose there’s no sense in delaying it any longer. I have some information to share with both of you, but I’m not exactly sure where I should begin.”

            “The beginning.” Galmar suggested, though it sounded more like a command.

            With a sigh, Ulfric stood from his chair. “The beginning, then.” He passed Galmar, walking toward the window behind him and staring out at the city. He sort of smiled to himself as he peered out over the streets of Windhelm, a long exhale escaping his nose and joining the air that surrounded us.

            “I was born the son of a Jarl.” he began. “On the seventeenth of Evening Star, I took my first breath, and every day since then, I’ve been the son of a Jarl. I spent the first twelve years of my life here, in this palace, acting as the son of a Jarl. I spent my mornings with a tutor, teaching me to read and write with the eloquence of the son of a Jarl. I spent my afternoons playing with children who were appropriate to spend time with the son of a Jarl. I spent my nights in a room adorned with expensive tapestries and white dressers and a bed covered in sheets that were soft enough for the son of a Jarl.

            “It’s repetitive, I know, but that is the best word I can find to describe my childhood. Repetitive.” He folded his arms, returning to the desk and sitting in his chair again. “I did what I was told, whatever I was told, and it was simply because my father was the Jarl. I was only allowed to play with certain children, I could only wear certain materials, and I could only read certain works of literature. Everything was chosen for me, and I was never asked for my input or opinions. It was a privileged life, I assure you, and I have no complaints about my youth other than the statement that I was never allowed to be a child.

            “Being born into privilege is a terrible thing. No matter where you go, it’s the title that you’re born with that carries you, not your name or your mind or your being. And that’s simply who I was. ‘The Jarl’s Son’. Three very simple words that plagued me with a certain responsibility to my family, to act like an adult before I even knew what that entailed.

            “And so naturally, I’ve always been rebellious. Hell, I took an entire country for myself because I didn’t like how it was being run, and that’s how I’ve always been. I couldn’t stand the robes I was made to wear, so I spent one afternoon burying them in the courtyard. I didn’t like the way my tutor taught, assigning pages to read and then testing on only what he had me teach myself, so I had him fired. I hated this palace, so I would sneak out at night and roam the streets of Windhelm. I was truly spoiled, a rotten child who had no concept of good and bad, but when I was in the streets of Windhelm, sitting on the steps outside of the palace and looking up at the stars in the night sky, it felt like I was miles away from the life I was given. And I loved it.

            “My mother died when I was eleven, some sort of illness filled her lungs with some unbreathable substance. She’d had the sickness since she was just a girl, but it didn’t take her until she was a wife and a mother.” Ulfric smiled to himself, his eyes distant as he thought of her. “She was a good woman. She loved me even when I was bad.

            “The first time I left Windhelm was when I was selected to become an apprentice to the Greybeards. My father brought me all the way up the seven thousand steps when I was twelve years old. I adjusted quickly to their quiet way of life, and I found it preferable to my life in the Palace of Kings. I hated the life I’d lived up until that point, in the constant watch of everyone. At High Hrothgar, it was easy to slip into the shadows and go unnoticed. It was okay to enjoy the quiet, because that’s all they had.

            “Arngeir quickly took me under his wing. He told me stories about how the Voice was used for worship of Kynareth in the days of old, and he taught me things that I never knew were possible. Using the Way of the Voice is a powerful privilege, I learned very quickly, and I vowed to myself I would never use it unless I absolutely needed it. Arngeir shared stories with me, ancient beliefs that they were taught everything they knew by a Dragon, an ancient Dragon who knew more than any other creature in the world. I knew it was nonsense, just a fable to lift the darkened hearts of the young men studying in High Hrothgar, but it was fun to pretend there was a dragon out there, flying and shouting as we could.” Side tracked, Ulfric turned his gaze to me directly. “Did you ever hear that tale? You studied with the Greybeards.”

            I laughed, amazed that he believed it was only a story. “Paarthurnax is real, my King. A large, old Dragon that meditates at the peak of the Throat of the World. He taught me so many amazing things that the Greybeards couldn’t.”

            Ulfric’s eyes widened. “So he’s real then? That’s incredible!”

            “Ulfric.” Galmar said sharply, drawing the attention back to Ulfric’s story.

            The High King sighed. “I want to hear more about this dragon, Cassius, but another time.”

            “Of course.” I said, nodding.

            Ulfric took a breath. “I was with them for nearly ten years. I was actually supposed to become a Greybeard, but when the Legion began asking for strong and able Nords to join their fight against the Aldmeri Dominion, I felt compelled to help. Arngeir tried to stop me, tried to remind me that the Voice was a force that’s powerful and strange, and it can’t be used for anything but protection. I was a man then, though, and I wanted to see the rest of the world. I wanted to see battle, like my father had, aid my country and my people.

            “The Legion was immediately…dissatisfying.” Ulfric began, standing from his seat again. “Nothing as I expected. I did meet Galmar, through the Legion, and that’s about the only good it ever brought me.” He paused beside Galmar, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder for a moment. Galmar covered the King’s hand with his own, and they exchanged a glance that I couldn’t quite read, but Karalissa beamed at them. After a moment, Ulfric walked back to the window he’d been at before, leaning against the wall and staring out of the pane.

            “Galmar and I fought in the same platoon as Legate Rikke. I’m sure you remember her, Cassius. The three of us had a bond that was utterly unbreakable, a force to be reckoned with amongst the troops. In battle, we were unbeatable, and in the camps, we spent our time playing pranks on other soldiers and our captains. Galmar was promoted to a Captain, himself, and he led our platoon for the longest time.

            “When the Aldmeri Dominion campaigned for the Imperial City, the Thalmor took prisoners of war. I was one of the many to be captured, yet one of the few to survive. I saw many men die, in the fort they held us in. Some starved, some were killed during interrogations, and some submitted, telling the Thalmor anything they wanted to know.” I glanced at Karalissa, whose eyes were fixed on Ulfric as he spoke, a small grimace on her usually happy face. I patted her shoulder as Ulfric continued, and she nodded to me, silently telling me that she was fine. “I, however, was marked as an asset to the Aldmeri Dominion after they discovered I was the son of a Jarl. Once Elenwen discovered that bit of information, she had access to my heart. Threats were made to break me. She said they could kill my father before I could bat an eye.” I blinked at his words, astonished that this was where his hatred for Elenwen stemmed from. He had told me before we sat with her in High Hrothgar that he disliked her, but I didn’t know this was why.

            Ulfric shook his head. “I held out for as long as I could, but I broke. I told them about our plans to take the Imperial City back, plans that had already been put into action, and the city had actually already fallen by the time they got me to crack. Galmar found me not hours later, he and Rikke snatched me from the shackles and carried me away from the fort. Still, though, I had cracked, and I could never forgive myself for that.”

            “No one blames you, Ulfric.” Galmar said, watching the King as he spoke. “Anyone else would have broken long before you did.”

            “That doesn’t matter, Galmar. What matters is that I didn’t hold out, I wasn’t strong enough.” Ulfric folded his arms across his chest again, repositioning himself as he looked out of the window. “We’ve all heard of the White-Gold Concordat, I trust. We know that we signed the treaty to end the war, but we signed away our freedom of religion, too. The worship of Talos was banned in the Empire: Cyrodiil, Skyrim, High Rock; it was just banned. Somewhere in the midst of the war, we lost the Reach. Damned Bretons took the land from right under our noses, Forsworn taking men and women and children from their homes and our land. By that time, Galmar and I were both Captains of the platoon, which consisted of two different troops, one led by each of us, and we marched our militia to the gates of Markarth and retook the city.

            “That was the first time I used the Voice to harm anyone. Even in the war, I never parted my lips to battle. I didn’t see it as a fair fight. But after Elenwen and the Thalmor…it didn’t matter to me. I just…” Ulfric was silent for a long time, staring out of the window, lost in his own memories.

            Then, he turned back to us. “We stationed a militia to guard Markarth after the Forsworn retreated, and in return, Igmund allowed free worship of Talos in the city. Hearing about the Markarth Incident, it didn’t take the Empire long to hear that the worship of Talos was allowed within the city again, which was a direct violation of the White-Gold Concordat. I stayed with my men, and I stood steady and refused their entrance into the city until they complied, allowing Talos-worship for me and my men, and for Nords everywhere. They did agree, and they let us worship, because we gave them no choice.

            “This certainly made the Dominion angry, and they forced the Empire back to Markarth to revoke what they’d just allowed. When we resisted, they seized me and my men. We were expelled from the city and imprisoned. They didn’t even let us speak out piece, they just tossed us away and they threw away the key. The Empire would have done anything for the Dominion, anything to keep them at bay, and in this case, the Dominion wanted me out of the people’s ear.”

            Ulfric was quiet again, only for a moment this time. “My father died while I was imprisoned.” he said, rather matter-of-factly. “Galmar smuggled my eulogy out of prison, had it taken to Windhelm for his funeral. I never even saw him before he was buried.” He turned back to us, walking toward his seat again and sitting across from us. “When I was released, they named me Jarl of Windhelm. I was no longer the Jarl’s son. I was the Jarl, the rightful heir to the throne.

            “Galmar and I began to simmer after all of this transpired, began to plan for a rebellion that needed to transpire if Skyrim was to be free from the darkness the Empire had cast upon us. I’m sure you both know enough about High King Torygg, and I can breeze over this part of the story. And Cassius, you were there when I was to be executed for the duel. And you were there when we began our rebellion, when we won our own war. When we took back our country.”

            “I was.” I said, furrowing my brow.

            “And now I’m the High King, and we’re moving to a new palace, away from this darkened stone castle that I’ve been a slave to my entire life. It’s over, all of it. All of the sorrow, all of the horrible things I saw in the war, and all of the pain I’ve ever felt. It’s over.”

            Ulfric looked at both of us for a moment, then down at his desk. “Now that the entirety of my story is out in the open, I can discuss the part that has never been…discussed before. The part that has been a secret for so long, even to Galmar.

            “Somewhere between all of the fight, between the middle of the war and the Markarth incident, I fell in love with a woman. A truly beautiful woman who showed me that life does not have to be affected directly by the pain that one has endured. She showed me that I should work toward something that would make me happy, and not focus on the things that darkened my soul. It was a love-affair that was kept quiet for several years, nearly seven, if I remember correctly, and not a soul new that our love even existed. Not even Galmar, and he has always been my truest friend.”

            Ulfric didn’t speak again after that. He just looked at us, trying to read our expressions. I shook my head. “Forgive me, my King, but I don’t understand why you’re telling us this.”

            “For the last time, Cassius, we are far past exchanging titles. I hope you both will call me Ulfric.”

            “Of course, Ulfric.” Karalissa said, her face wearing as much confusion as I was sure mine did. “I don’t think either of us understand the relevance of this part of the story, though. Galmar said that you needed our help to work through something, but I don’t see anything to work through.”

            Ulfric straightened in his chair. “The woman I loved was your mother.”

            Karalissa and I sat silently, looking between Ulfric and Galmar and each other. I blinked several times, trying to make sure I heard him correctly, and then I just laughed. It was a loud and booming laugh that echoed off of the walls of the study. Ulfric waited patiently for me to gather myself.

            “Is this some sort of prank you two concocted? Because kudos to you, that was elaborate.” I waited for one of them to laugh too, but they never did.

            Karalissa stared at Ulfric with utter confusion in her eyes. “Are you suggesting that _you_ are our father?”

            Ulfric shook his head. “I’m not suggesting anything, Karalissa. I’m telling you that I am.”

            I shook my head, my mouth stretched into a firm grimace. “Nope. Our father never returned from the Great War. And I remember what he looked like, I remember what our mother said about him. I remember everything.”

            “You don’t, Cassius.” Ulfric said, his voice soft and deep. “You were only a boy, a child who couldn’t understand what it meant to lose a parent. Whatever Fjoli told you about where I went wasn’t true. You know my story, now. You know what happened.”

            As he said our mother’s name, my heart sank. Immediately, I tried to think of any reason for it not to be true. “You dug around for that name, or maybe I mentioned it to you before. There’s no way. It’s not possible.”

            “Fjoli and I lived in Proudspire Manor together until you were almost seven, Cassius. You and I went fishing and hunting together. I gave you your first sword, a little wooden weapon that did no damage at all, unless you swung it in the house. And Karalissa was so small when I left Solitude to finish the war, barely a year old.”

            Karalissa’s jaw dropped as he spewed details about our lives he couldn’t know unless he really was our father. “I don’t—I don’t understand. Why are you telling us this? Why now?”

            “Because the Jarl’s throne belongs to my oldest born. Cassius has every right to the title of Jarl of Windhelm.”

            Anger ruptured in my chest, more anger than I’d ever felt in my entire life. Looking back, I imagined I would have been more excited. Ulfric Stormcloak had been my idol from the time I heard of his cause, when I was just a young man. But in that moment, all I felt was blinding rage.

            “It’s been twenty-three years.” I said, blinking rapidly as I tried to control my anger. “We’ve spent twenty-three years thinking that all we’ve endured was because our father was lost in the war, and all this time, you’ve been sitting pretty in the Palace of Kings, just ignoring our presence?”

            Ulfric pursed his lips. “That’s a rather negative way to put it.”

            I laughed. “Do you have any idea, even the smallest idea, of all of the shit Karalissa and I have been through? Every ounce of pain we’ve ever felt has been because of you. How can you sit there and tell me that the only reason you decided to acknowledge that we are your children is because Windhelm needs a _Jarl_?”

            “That isn’t the only reason, Cassius.” Ulfric said, his voice so calm that it made me angrier. “There are many reasons why the time had to come, but that is one of the bigger reasons.”

            I felt the Thu’um rumbling in my chest, eager to be used after months of remaining silent. My blood boiled as Ulfric stared at me, utterly oblivious to the damage he’d caused.

            “No, I won’t believe it. I won’t believe it until I hear this from my mother. She wouldn’t let something like this…” And then, I actually thought about it. The warped image of my father in my memories, the skewed sound of his deep, baritone voice. The song that Ulfric had been humming as we entered the palace earlier that morning. It was Ulfric. It always had been.

            Finally, it hit me. This wave of grief as I acknowledged that Ulfric was the reason almost everyone I loved had felt so much pain. My heart broke as I believed that it was him. He was out father, and I hated that.

            “So, just to clarify.” I began. “You say you loved our mother, you had two children with her, and then you returned to the war. And even after the war was over, after the Markarth incident, after you were imprisoned, you were seated as Jarl of Windhelm. And you never went back for your children.”

            “I thought your life would be better away from the palace. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to stand for what I believe in. It was simple coincidence that you already did.”

            “Mhm.” I mumbled, nodding. “And in the five years, now, that I have known you, you never saw an appropriate moment to tell me that I was your son. I could understand Karalissa not knowing. You’ve hardly said twenty words to her before today, but _me_? You couldn’t say anything when we were, I don’t know, travelling back here after Helgen, or sitting together in High Hrothgar, or riding in the wagon to take Solitude?”

            Ulfric shook his head slowly. “I needed time to figure out what to say.”

            I laughed, a wicked laugh as a sick thought crossed my mind. “Well, you told us your life story. Would you like to hear ours?”

            “Cassius.” Karalissa mumbled beside me. “Please, don’t.”

            “Where should I begin? The very beginning?” I asked no one in particular. “Our father left when I was six years old, and our mother raised the two of us by herself. Life was perfect, other than the void that was left because we thought our father died in battle. We were happy and healthy kids. We played with the other kids in Solitude, ran through the streets, scaled the walls. We were the best of friends. Nothing perfect ever lasts too long, though. Does it Karl?”

            “Cassius, don’t do this.” she said again, her fist clenched beside me.

            “Our mother married the bard! Joyous news, right? They married when I was eighteen and Karalissa was thirteen, and he was a wonderful man. He was kind and funny, and he loved our mother for all of ten minutes. We stayed at the Bard’s College for a year while they honeymooned, traveled all over Skyrim and saw things and went on adventures like a normal married couple.

            “Then, they came back! But Viarmo wasn’t a wonderful man anymore, was he Karl? He tried to sign me up for the Legion so I would stop intruding in _his_ home and disrupting _his_ life. He punished both of us for just being happy, saying that smiling annoyed him, or my laugh was arrogant, or Karalissa hummed too loudly. He tried to marry us both off, to pawn us off to someone else so he could have his peace of mind. He made us stay at the Bard’s College so we couldn’t hear him beating our mother in the middle of the night. And Talos as my witness, I don’t care how many people she lies to about it, our mother or our old teachers or her damned husband, I know he raised a hand to Karalissa more than that one time.”

            “Just leave it alone, Cassius!” she yelled at me, trembling in the chair beside me. “It doesn’t matter anymore!”

            “It does matter, Karalissa!” I turned back to Ulfric. “Viarmo would rant and rave, and most of the time, he would say horrible things about our good-for-nothing father. A man he’d never met, but Viarmo was willing to step in and take care of everything he’d left behind, and he sure did a damned good job, didn’t he? He must have, because our mother never did anything to stop him. Not even that day he had Karalissa by the face in our living room, and I nearly beat the man to death because I _knew_ he was trying to send me away so I couldn’t keep stopping him. The same day we left Solitude and our mother because I couldn’t watch her like that anymore. I couldn’t let Karalissa stay there.

            “Oh, and then we lived in the woods for a year. We couldn’t afford to live anywhere other than the woods, so we hunted and sold the pelts for the little coin they were worth. And then, that glorious day where I saw the Stormcloak cuirasses in the distance, and I just had to run up to the soldiers and figure out what I had to do to join. Ulfric Stormcloak was my idol, and he was standing in that very campsite, inches from my face when the damned Imperials intercepted and took me from my sister.”

            I watched as Ulfric’s face twist into a mess of pain and anger, but I couldn’t stop. “When we were reunited after almost two years of my Dragonborn adventures, all the while Karalissa thinking I’d been killed in Helgen, I thought, what better time to join the Stormcloak rebellion? It’s been long enough, I might as well, right? I dragged Karalissa’s husband along with me, even though he wasn’t her husband then, and we marched to take Whiterun.”

            Karalissa was still shaking beside me. “Cassius, this has nothing to do with him.”

            “During the march for Whiterun, while I was off with Galmar and my wife and Vilkas fighting for _you_ , Ulfric, Karalissa was captured by the Thalmor! They took her and Vilkas’ brother, and they cut off her hair and they electrocuted them and starved them. Karalissa had to kill nearly twenty men to stop them from beating her brother-in-law to death. And what was it they were interrogating you about, Karl?” She said nothing, only glaring at me with angry eyes. “Tell him, Karalissa.”

            She clenched her jaw, staring at me in disgust, but she spoke. “What city Ulfric would march on next. Who strategized for him, and where his camps were.”

            “All things Karalissa couldn’t have known, but she was still taken. And all the while, you were safe in your palace.” I shook my head, feeling the smoke trailing out of my mouth. “And then, Vilkas died.”

            Both Ulfric’s and Galmar’s jaws dropped as I said it, but the words wouldn’t stop. “I received a letter from the Jarl of Windhelm saying there’s been an Imperial ambush in Dawnstar, so naturally, because all I want is Ulfric Stormcloak’s respect and approval, I drag Vilkas and his brother to Dawnstar with me, and Vilkas is killed in the battle. I sat in the snow, listening to Farkas scream his brother’s name and trying to figure out what I would say to my sister, how to tell her that her husband was dead.”

            Karalissa was really crying beside me now, and that brought me back from my rage momentarily to put a steady hand on her shaking back. At the contact, her trembling ceased. “A necromancer brings her husband, my brother, back to life in the middle of the gods damned woods, and I bring him home so that I can _still_ fight in Ulfric’s damned war. And I ride with him to Solitude, and I pour my heart out to him about how much I care for my sister, and how much I hated our mother’s husband. And even though Ulfric Stormcloak knew he was my father, he said _nothing._

            “Now, everything is finally good. I live in a nice home in a rural part of Skyrim with my wife and my beautiful daughter, and my sister comes over every week with her husband to visit, and we’re happy. And then we get a letter from Galmar, saying that Ulfric needs our help once again. And gods damn me, because I dropped everything and came back to you again.

            “So, now that you know the entirety of _our_ story, I only have one question for you. Would you have told us if Galmar hadn’t written?”

            Ulfric sat silently for a moment, his gaze bouncing between me, the utter rage radiating from me, and Karalissa, trembling beside me as tears rolled down her face. Then, after nearly a minute of silence, Ulfric shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t have told you.”

            I nodded, standing from my chair, Karalissa following behind me as I left the room.

            “Then we have nothing else to discuss.”


	4. A Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The assassins of the Dark Brotherhood spend an average morning together. Later, Arabella tries to document all she knows about her brothers, but Cicero is rather distracting. 
> 
> POV: Arabella

            I walked through the halls of the Falkreath sanctuary, running my fingers over the stone walls around me. I strode past the Night Mother’s temple, her coffin perched in front of the Shrine of Sithis that loomed over the waterfall in the main room. I passed Cicero’s room, which had become my room since he’d left the sanctuary. I passed Babette’s room, where she sat on her little stone bed, reading a century-old book with an attentiveness I admired.

            Passing through that hallway and into the sleeping area, I stepped around my old bed and moved toward the stairs. I smiled as I looked down at the eating area below, where Nazir stood over a pot of stew and Festus sat with Arnbjorn, having some sort of debate about werewolves. I descended the stairs, smiling and waving to them as I passed through the room.

            Then, I entered the alchemy lab. Gabriella stood over an enchantment table, working on some sort of blade, and Veezara sat at the table in the center of the room. They both looked up as I entered, a smile on their faces, and when I strode past Veezara, he reached out and brushed my arm with the tips of his fingers.

            When I left the lab and walked into the main room, the familiar flames had consumed the perimeter. The coffin flew through the Shrine of Sithis and toppled into the water below, and I watched as another me, wearing a chef’s tunic and running through the sanctuary, ran to help Arnbjorn. She screamed as she watched him die, then hopped on top of a Penitus Oculatus guard to avenge him.

            I backed away, subconsciously wondering why this was happening out of order. I turned back to the lab, which had emptied in the mere moments I was away. I saw the girl in the chef’s tunic run past me, into the eating area with Babette to help Nazir. I watched as Nazir had pull the girl off of a guard’s body because she couldn’t stop driving her blade into his unmoving chest.

            I turned back to the lab, knowing that Veezara was just there, just fine. But when I entered the room, I saw the girl clutching Veezara’s body, her screams reverberating off of the wall and echoing in my ears. I reached up to cover my ears, to block out the sound, but I couldn’t avert my eyes as she held him, rocking back and forth and sobbing.

            _Arabella, stop. It’s not real!_ I touched my temple as I heard the voice, just barely audible over the shrieks around me. I backed away from the room, moving into the main room of the sanctuary, which was suddenly extinguished and dark. I stood over the graves in the center of the room, watching the other me sit before the mounds of dirt and sob.

            And then, as I felt myself being shaken and pulled from sleep, Veezara was beside me. As he reached toward me, taking my hand and staring down at me with a kind smile on his face, I felt okay. I placed my hand over my stomach, a firm bump protruding from beneath my dress was present, and it made my heart sputter. Everything was fine. He opened his mouth to speak, but just before I could hear his voice, everything was black.

            My eyes shot open, blinking profusely as I adjusted to the image of my ceiling above me. I snapped my head to the side, recognizing Cicero’s voice in my right ear. He stood over me, one hand on my shoulder and the other against my cheek, his eyes riddled with curiosity and concern.

            I sat up, wiping my face with the backs of my hands and taking away both tears and smeared black makeup. “I’m sorry.” I said, my throat hoarse as it usually was when I woke.

            “Are you alright?” he asked, just as he always did. He was wearing the pants of his jester’s motley and a plain, worn white shirt. He ran his hand through my tangled hair, trying to soothe me from the lingering pain of the dream I’d had.

            I just nodded. “I’m sorry, Cicero.” I said to him, blinking again. We were both quiet after that, Cicero looking at me as I stared down at my sheets.

            “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice low and casual because he’d asked that question a thousand times before.

            Shaking my head, I just mumbled, “It was the same as always.” Though Cicero didn’t really know what that meant, because I never explained my dreams to him, he nodded anyway because he understood the general nature of the terrible things unconsciousness brought me.

            And it was the same as always. I avoided sleep for as long as I could because every night was the same. The dream always identical to the one I’d had the night before, stemming from the very first time I slept after Falkreath burned. When I woke from it, I didn’t really feel much of anything.

            I had stopped hoping they would go away, the dreams, because begging for it to stop for two years seemed to be unhelpful. Instead, I had hoped that I would simply become accustomed to them. I had learned to numb myself as soon as I woke, but I couldn’t control the way I screamed when I was asleep.

            Cicero knew that too, and he just waited for me to decide if I wanted to get up or go back to sleep. I didn’t want to sleep anymore, but I didn’t want to get up either. So when I laid back down, Cicero tucked himself under my covers and wrapped his arms around me. He held me against his chest and showered the side of my face with kisses, hoping to comfort me and help me fall asleep again. I laid there quietly until he drifted into sleep himself, and then I listened to his deepened inhaling and exhaling that meant he was lost in unconsciousness.

            And that was how most of my nights were spent, lying awake next to Cicero and listening to him breathe. He mumbled in his sleep on occasion, and I would try to decipher what he was saying, or I would count the number of times his face twitched. Some nights, he wouldn’t make any noise at all, and I’d be left with nothing but the echo in my hollow skull until he woke again.

            Cicero frequently sacrificed sleep to stay up with me, but more recently, and progressively so as his sanity returned to him, I sacrificed staying up so he could sleep. He spent so much time trying to fix me, to take away my pain and keep me happy, but he couldn’t grasp the fact that there was no fixing me.

            Instead, I taught myself how to pretend I was okay. I laughed when Cicero told a joke, I beamed with pride when the young assassins did something the other veterans deemed admirable, or I participated in whatever game they conducted in the evenings. I took contracts, I cleaned the sanctuary, and I taught the young ones things I knew better than them. I was the image of healing, and Cicero felt better when I _appeared_ to feel better too.

            I wasn’t though, because I was so much worse. I had denied and denied for so long, told myself I just needed time to recover. Eventually, I would be myself again and I could enjoy the peaceful life we’d built for ourselves in Dawnstar. I gave up denial and simply embraced that I was unrepairable after a year and a half with no actual improvement on my part, and I decided it was easier to stop trying.

            It was simpler for everyone to take that approach, so when Cicero woke, I pretended I was still sleeping. Whether or not he believed me was unknown to me, but I didn’t move until he’d dressed and left the room, humming happily to himself as he ventured down the hall to the main room for breakfast.

            I rose once he was out of earshot, walking to the wardrobe in the corner and pulling a clean, black dress from the shelf and wrapping it around my weak flesh. I pulled on my warm black boots, a birthday gift from Babette a few months before, and I walked toward the vanity I had on the other side of my room. I sat in the chair and stared at my face in the mirror, my eyes wandering over crooks and creases in my face.

            The black makeup from yesterday had run down my face in my sleep, streaking across my cheeks and running down to my jaw. I wiped it away with a damp rag and reapplied the dark liner to my eyes. I found it drew some of the attention away from the circles under my eyes and the scars that dominated my face. Instead of looking at the deep gash across my cheek or the dark line that ran from my jawline to my collarbone, most everyone looked at the darkly lined contrast of my light eyes. Everyone except Cicero, who always saw deeper than that.

            I pulled my hood over my head, walking to the door and then down the hall toward the sound of happy chatter. After the training room and the stairs, I entered the large eating area and was greeted by several pairs of curious eyes.

            “Good morning, Listener!” Nazir said from his small kitchen. With the money we’d saved by opting to ignore the torture chamber and create a forge, we’d managed to make a nice area for Nazir to cook to his heart’s content. Since I’d promoted him to Speaker, he rarely went out on contract anymore, but rather divided the contracts amongst the younger assassins.

            “Good morning, Nazir.” I replied, offering him a soft smile. “It smells fantastic in here.”

            “Thank you.” he said, a happy grin on his face. “I decided to try my hand at pancakes today. Figured I’d change things up.”

            “They’re really good.” Thomas mumbled around a mouthful of Nazir’s cooking.

            I smiled, taking a plate for myself and adding two pancakes to the wooden dish. Nazir poured a thick, sappy substance on top and smiled at me as I walked toward the table.

            I took the seat across from Cicero, who watched me sit and scoot my seat toward the table. Looking up at him, he raised an eyebrow, silently asking if I felt any better from the night before. I gave him a half-smile, and he seemed satisfied with that.

            The pancakes were good, and as the rest of the family trickled in, the conversation around me grew louder and louder.

            “So I heard you nearly botched a contract in Markarth.” Nikulas said, his tone twinging on pompous.

            “You heard incorrectly.” Mareena replied, her mouth twisted into a grimace. “You should reconsider your sources, because whoever you heard that from was incorrect.”

            “I heard it from the Keeper.” Nikulas countered, raising an eyebrow toward Cicero.

            Mareena stared at Cicero challengingly, trying to refrain from outwardly snapping at him. Though she was nice enough, Mareena was fairly hot-tempered and never hesitated to put anyone who crossed her in their places. She was careful with the Keeper, though, because his temper was a force to be reckoned with.

            Cicero just shrugged, cutting up his pancakes with the fork in his hand. “It wasn’t incorrect, necessarily. Getting caught and killing your witness means, in the end, that no one saw you, but it doesn’t mean you performed your contract correctly either.”

            Mareena’s gaze drifted to me rather quickly, seemingly ready to be reprimanded for the mistake. This was the one part of being in charge I hated: everyone was afraid that I would be angry with them. In all honesty, I was sure most of the sanctuary thought I was crazy already, and they probably didn’t want to see me mad.

            I simply shrugged. “It happens to all of us. In my first months with the brotherhood, I was attacked by my contract’s spouse. Two-to-one fight that I could have prepared for if I’d actually read the information on the target.”

            “Those were vampires, Listener.” Cicero said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a little different.”

            “No, it isn’t.” I said, smiling at him. I turned my attention back to the recruits who listened in. “You’re all young, and already you’re good assassins. There will be contracts that are a lot to handle sometimes, no matter how seasoned or skilled you are. Prepare for the worst, and you’ll either know exactly what to expect or you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

            Mareena relaxed significantly. “What are your suggestions, Listener? How can I get better?”

            I spent a moment in thought, watching her eager eyes. “Mm, read the information the Speaker gives you.” I said, gesturing to Nazir. “Ask him for extra advice. He knows the contract better than you do, so take advantage of his words. You should also speak with Babette. She’s been an assassin for centuries longer than we have, so ask for her opinions during the hours she is awake. I almost always ask around, anyone in the sanctuary. There are always siblings who know more than you do, and you should strive to learn as much as you can.

            “Otherwise, train. Always train. My suggestion is to train with the Keeper. There’s never been a situation that I haven’t seen him able to get out of. I’m sure he’d be happy to teach you a thing or two.”

            “Oh, yes!” Cicero said, a sly grin on his face. “I would be happy to show you a few things about sneaking and stabbing.”

            Mareena smiled, nodding and turning back to her food. “Thank you, Listener.”

 

            Arrows flew past my head, plunging into the practice mannequin behind my desk. As I sat at the stone table in my room, scrawling on loose pieces of parchment, Cicero stood on the other side of my room, firing his crossbow’s arrows past my head and into the mannequin’s body a few feet behind me.

            One came dangerously close to my ear, piercing the mannequin’s chest with a soft thud, and I turned around to glare at Cicero.

            “Do you mind?”

            Cicero smiled evilly, lowering his crossbow. “Not at all.”

            I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you move the mannequin to the other side of the room? Or practice in another room all together?”

            “Because then I couldn’t look at the Listener’s pretty face before I fired.” he replied simply.

            “I’m looking down at my desk.” I said, a smile creeping across my face. “You can only see the top of my head.”

            “And the top of your head is very pretty.” Cicero said, shrugging the strap of his crossbow back over his shoulder. He walked to the mannequin as I looked back down at my desk, and he pulled the arrows from the cloth person and tucked them back into the satchel on his hip. “What are you working on?” he asked from behind me.

            “I’m trying to document what I already know about my brothers.” I explained. “Maybe there’s something I’m missing, something that could help me figure out where they are.”

            Cicero hummed to himself as he walked back to my desk, hopping up to sit on the surface and look down at my paper. “Explain it to me. What do we know?”

            I felt my own face light up, excited that Cicero wanted to help. He hadn’t seemed very enthused about the idea of me having another family in the beginning, but the more I talked about it, the more involved he’d become. I was happy to have the help, of course, because I had trouble arranging the order things had happened every once in a while, and Cicero never forgot anything.

            “Okay.” I began, pointing to the beginning of my flowchart. “We met them first in Dawnstar when that Imperial ambush happened. You and I were on our way back from contract when we heard the screams and decided something interesting was happening.”

            “Yes.” Cicero said as he nodded. “We thought there would be a good show. And we were right.”

            “Yep. As we were wandering away because the show was ending, we heard the screams from the edge of the woods and found the two dark men with the blond Dragonborn near that rock.”

            “And one of the dark men was dead.”

            I nodded. “He was. And his brother was holding him and crying…” I blinked rapidly, trying to dismiss the image of myself clutching Veezara and screaming that suddenly plagued me. Cicero’s hand on my shoulder brought me back, and I looked up at him to shake my head. “And the Dragonborn is connected to them somehow. He was yelling that he’d killed his brother.”

            Cicero shrugged. “Well, that could mean anything. Maybe your father remarried a woman with other children. From what you’ve told me, he had some sort of fascination with multiple families.”

            I nodded my head from side to side, considering that. “Maybe. Or they’re in some sort of guild together. We call the recruits brothers and sisters.”

            “Also true.” Cicero said, pulling some needles from his sleeve as he rolled it up and beginning to poke his arm for a new tattoo. He drew a thin line with the small, sharp needle, and I watched in fascination as tiny beads of blood flowed away from his extended arm.

            “If you’re just going to roll down your sleeves again, why put a new tattoo on your arm?” I asked. “This is a very strange thing, you’re going through, and I want you to know I’m going to tease you for it once it passes.”

            “It’s not a phase, Arabella.” he said, a small smile on his face. “They look good. Now go back to your thinking.”

            “I’m missing something. There’s something I can’t remember.” I said, looking up at his face again. “I don’t know why this has happened to me. Ever since we came here, to Dawnstar, I lose things. Little pieces of memories.”

            Cicero looked up at me from his arm, his eyes wearing worry. “How long has that been happening? Since Falkreath was lost?” I nodded, and he put his hand on the side of my face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

            I sighed, leaning against his hand. “I don’t want to sound crazier than you already think I am.”

            His brow furrowed, and he set his needle down to hold my face in both of his hands. “I don’t think you’re crazy, I never have. What happened was awful, and it affected you more than anybody. That doesn’t make you crazy.”

            “I’ve woken screaming every night since it happened. I haven’t stopped dreaming of the fire and bodies and…I’m an assassin, Cicero. I see people die all the time. It’s been two years. I don’t know why this has had such an effect on me.”

            Cicero sighed, pursing his lips. “You loved them. All of them, even Astrid. They weren’t just people to you.” He ran his thumb over the scars at the corner of my eyebrow. He’d always had some sort of fascination with them. “You never had a family, not a real one, and then when you found one, this terrible thing happened. You’ll recover in time, and I’ll help you do it. Just like you helped me.”

            “That was different, Cicero. I—”

            “It’s not any different at all.” he said, cutting my sentence short. “You showed me companionship when I was dismissed by everyone else as a madman. From the moment I met you, you were nothing but kind and that’s what saved me. Now, I’m going to save you. You just have to tell me what you need.”

            “I don’t know what I need. I don’t know how to fix it.” I said, covering his hand with my own.

            Cicero nodded. “Then I’ll figure it out for you.”

            “You don’t have to do that.”

            “And I will anyway.” He said, offering me a smile. It wasn’t sly or mischievous as it usually was. Just a smile. “I would do anything for you, Arabella.”

            I smiled too, unable to stop myself. “I know.” I said as he leaned down from the desktop to kiss me. I shut my eyes, enjoying the quiet of the room and the happiness Cicero gave me. When he pulled away from me, opening his own eyes nearly in sync with mine, I couldn’t stop myself from saying the words we rarely said to each other.

            “I love you, Cicero.”

            He smiled again. “And I love you.”


	5. An Eyelash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vilkas convinces Karalissa to talk to her brother after ignoring him for two weeks. Later, Karalissa helps Farkas with a little issue he's been struggling with.
> 
> POV: Karalissa

            I pulled a long sweater around my arms, trying to protect myself from the cold radiating through our house. Since the summer had passed, and winter was beginning to plague Skyrim, Whiterun had become colder than I’d ever felt. I’d lived there for a long time, but the cold had never been quite as profound as that winter. Because I was already the type of person to shiver in the summer, I wasn’t adapting too well.

            It was for that reason that when I came down the stairs in my long sweater and my pajama pants tucked into my leather boots with my hair the tangled mess it usually was when I woke, Vilkas laughed. He had let me sleep in that morning, since it was the weekend and I had been wallowing recently. He sat on the small couch near the firepit in the center of the living room, a bowl of oatmeal in one hand and a book in the other.

            Vilkas set the book aside as I joined him on the couch. I sat beside him, curling my legs to my chest and snuggling as close to him as I could get. He lifted his breakfast so I could tuck myself under his arm, and I felt warmer instantly.

            “Good morning.” he said, pressing his lips against the side of my forehead.

            “Morning, Villy.” I replied, tightening my sweater around my torso. “Has Whiterun ever been this cold?”

            He shrugged, continuing to eat his breakfast around me. “I don’t think so, but the cold doesn’t bother me.” He offered me a spoonful of his oatmeal.

            I grunted in disgust. “No, thank you. I don’t know how you eat that goop. It has the consistency of vomit.”

            “It tastes good.” he said, eating the spoonful he’d offered me a moment before.

            I wrinkled my nose. “It tastes like dirt.”

            “It tastes like oats.” he countered.

            I peered into the bowl at the lumpy, brown mess. “Well, oats taste like dirt.”

            Vilkas shook his head, finishing the bowl and setting it aside. “If you don’t want any of my dirty vomit for breakfast, what would you like instead?” 

            I sighed, shutting my eyes and resting against him. “I’m not really hungry.”

            He grunted, standing from the couch and walking to the kitchen. “You didn’t eat any supper last night. I’m making you something, and you have to eat it.”

            I watched him walk away, then I lowered myself to just lay on the couch. “Whatever you say, dear.”

            Vilkas exhaled sharply in quick laughter. “How do you know what dirt tastes like?”

            I shrugged. “I had some when I was young. I lost a bet with my brother.”

            Vilkas grunted from somewhere in the kitchen. “Speaking of which, have you given this anymore thought?”

            I sighed, staring up at the ceiling. I hadn’t spoken to my brother since we’d gone to Windhelm two weeks ago to speak with Ulfric, who was apparently our father. He had written me several times, but I’d ignored them all, simply because I didn’t know what to say to him.

            “No, I haven’t.” I replied, shutting my eyes again.

            “Mhm.” Vilkas said, shuffling around in the kitchen. I heard him cutting something up, but I didn’t know what it was. “So you’re going to ignore him forever?”

            “Yep.” I said, folding my arms.

            Vilkas sighed. “Do you even know why you’re mad?”

            “I do. He had no right to spew our business out to strangers.”

            “They aren’t strangers to him.” Vilkas said, walking back to me. He placed a plate of sliced apples on my stomach, then returned to the kitchen. “He was angry. You know that.”

            “I know he was angry, but some of the things he said were just…” I took a bite of an apple slice. “There are just certain things he and I don’t talk about. It’s always been that way.”

            “What was it he said?”

            I pursed my lips. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

            Vilkas grunted. “You don’t want to talk about it. You don’t want to see your brother. What _do_ you want to do, Kara?”

            “I want to eat my apple slices and never leave the house again.” I said. “You could stay with me, if you want. It’s too cold out anyway.”

            He sighed from beyond me, staying quiet for a few moments as I ate from the couch. Then, he cleared his throat. “Karalissa, I know you haven’t returned any of my letters because you’re angry with me. I said some things to Ulfric that I shouldn’t have, and I want to explain myself.”

            I shot up, setting my plate to the side and turning to stare at Vilkas. He was leaning against the staircase with one of my brother’s letters in his hand, staring at me. “Vilkas, what are you doing?”

            He didn’t answer, but he continued reading. “I often dreamed of discovering that our father was still alive somewhere, trying to find his way back to us. I imagined I would have been so happy, so satisfied to be reunited with the man I remember loving so dearly. Unfortunately, when Ulfric told us that _he_ was the man from my memories, all I felt was rage. But not for me, not for us. It was for you.”

            “Vilkas, I really don’t want to hear this.” I said.

            “From the time we were young to this very day, I know it’s hurt you to have no recollection of our father. He has always been a phantom to you, and I know there were days where you needed a father, and I could never be that for you. Viarmo didn’t help at all, and if anything, he skewed your idea of what a father should be even further.

            “I was angry because I knew Ulfric would never have told us, that you would have gone your whole life thinking we never had a father at all. I wanted to make a list of all of the ways his decision had hurt us, I wanted him to feel the pain we felt. I shouldn’t have said any of it, about the Thalmor or Vilkas or what Viarmo did to our family. I’m sorry I did. I should have talked to you first. I always should have.

            “Please talk to me. I don’t think I can do this without you. I love you. Cass. P.s. Lydia says hello.” Vilkas lowered the letter, staring at me with a raised brow.

            “Are they all like that?”

            He nodded. “Well, Lydia doesn’t say ‘hello’ in all of them, but essentially.”

            I groaned, laying back on the couch as Vilkas moved to sit beside me. I buried my face in the couch, exhaling loudly before I looked back up at him. “I have to talk to him, don’t I?”

            “Aye.” he replied, a sly grin on his face. “You’re not really mad, and you want to talk to him. You don’t know how to say the things you want to say.”

            “I hate that you know me so well.” I said, sitting up to face him.

            Vilkas laughed. “No, you don’t. You should know that I already wrote him. He’s coming to Whiterun to have a drink with me tonight.”

            I sighed, resting my head against Vilkas’ shoulder. “Okay. Am I supposed to go too?”

            Vilkas wrapped his arms around me, cradling me against him. “No, you said you were spending time with Farkas tonight. You do whatever it is you two do, and I’ll bring Cassius back here afterwards.”

            “I’ll talk to him after, then.” I said, lifting my head to kiss the side of Vilkas’ jaw. “Thank you for thinking for me.”

            He smirked, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. “Anything for you, dear.”

 

            “I really don’t see anything.” I said, staring into Farkas’ eye. One was sort of red and watery, but there was nothing other than eye in there.

            He blinked again, then winced in pain. “I’m telling you, Lissa. There’s something in there.” He rubbed his eye again. “I feel it. It hurts.”

            “Okay, okay.” I said, pulling his hand away from his face. I stood over him in his chair, using my thumb to tug his eyebrow upward so I could look into his eye. Farkas had been complaining all day about having something in his eye, and I’d decided it was time to have a look.

            “It’s probably nothing.” Avulstein said, shoveling a piece of venison into his mouth. Tilma had just served supper to everyone, and Avulstein was usually the first to put food in his mouth.

            Thorald gave him a nudge. “You can’t say anything. It’s not your eye.” Thorald and Avulstein Gray-Mane had joined the Companions several months before, after Vilkas and Aela accompanied Avulstein on a mission to rescue Thorald from his Thalmor captors. Since the war had ended, they’d been able to return home to Whiterun, and Eorlund had insisted they join. I didn’t have to think twice about initiating them after all of the good Eorlund and Vignar had done for us. In addition, Vilkas was really fond of Thorald, and they’d become decent friends.

            Ralof rolled his eyes, talking around a mouthful of food. “It’s probably just an eyelash. Don’t be such a baby.” Ralof was a different story. He had been one of the first Stormcloak soldiers Galmar had sent to join the Companions. Though he was an incredible warrior, his personality was rather sour for my taste.

            Farkas grumbled. “I’m not a baby. It hurts.”

            “An eyelash conquers the mighty Farkas? I’m shocked.” Ralof laughed, though the sound never really held much enthusiasm.

            “You’ll be really shocked when I punch you in the nose, Ralof.” Farkas said, turning his head away from me to look at the blond Nord.

            “Alright, that’s enough.” I said, gripping Farkas’ face and turning his head toward me again. I stared into the soft, gray iris, trying to find anything that could be irritating his eye. For split second, I thought I saw something like an eyelash or a piece of dirt, but it disappeared in an instant. I sighed, shaking my head. “I just don’t see anything, Farkas.”

            He gripped my forearm, trying to keep my attention. “Please keep looking, Lissa. It’s been bothering me all day.”

            Ralof scoffed. “Can’t you get your woman to do this for you?” he asked Farkas, who clenched his jaw.

            “She’s out hunting. Besides, Aela would stab me in the eye before she searched it for an eyelash.”

            Avulstein laughed. “So you’re having the Harbinger do it instead? I’d stab _myself_ in the eye before I asked Lissa to do such a childish task.”

            Farkas’ face twisted somewhere between seething and pouting, genuinely upset that he was being made fun of. I knew any other time, he would have decked Avulstein in the face, but on this occasion, he was just too unenthused about his eye to care.

            I rolled my eyes, taking Farkas’ hand and pulling him from his seat. “Let’s go downstairs. I think I have something that could help in my chambers.” I turned back to the three men Farkas and I had been eating with. “Finish your supper, Companions. You have duties to finish before the sun sets, and I expect a report before I leave for the night.”

            “Of course, Harbinger.” Thorald said, and his reply was accompanied by the grunts of acknowledgment from the other two men.

            I pulled Farkas away from the mead hall, walking toward the living quarters. Once we were down the stairs and in the hallway, he trailed behind me toward my chambers at the end of the hall. As I pushed the door open, I saw Vilkas sitting in my chair with his feet propped up on my desk. He looked up from his book as we entered, and when he realized it was only us, he looked back down at his book.

            “Are we disturbing you, Master at Arms?” I asked sarcastically, ignoring his presence and guiding Farkas to the table in the center of the room. He sat in the chair, his eye covered with his fist as he continued to rub it, then watched as I moved around the room.

            “It’s your office, Harbinger. Do whatever you want.” Vilkas replied, mocking enthusiasm. He looked over his shoulder at Farkas, then shook his head as he returned his gaze to the book. “Something wrong with poor, baby Farkas?”

            Farkas grunted. “As soon as you fix my eye, I’m gonna kick someone’s ass, Lissa.”

            I sighed. “No, you’re not.” I grabbed a bowl from a shelf against the wall and walked toward my desk. I leaned over Vilkas to grab the pitcher of water I kept on my desk, pouring some into the bowl with a quiet splash. Then, I tapped Vilkas’ left leg, and without even looking up, he lifted his leg so I could pull a rag from the drawer beneath it. As I walked away, Vilkas returned his leg to its original position.

            “What is the problem, then?” Vilkas mumbled.

            “There’s something in Farkas’ eye.” I said, dipping the rag in the water before I set the bowl on the table in front of Farkas. “Hold your eye open.” I said, and as Farkas did just that, I gently squeezed water from the rag into his open eye.

            Vilkas exhaled sharply in laughter. “An eyelash puts up a decent fight with a big, strong Nord. Hope you don’t have to charge into battle in a gust of wind, brother. It may blow one of your lush, girly eyelashes out of place and blind you.”

            Farkas cupped his hand into the bowl and tossed a handful of water in Vilkas’ direction. It splashed against the back of his head, soaking his hair and the surrounding area, including a stack of paperwork to the right of Vilkas.

            Vilkas whirled around, setting his feet on the ground with a thud. “Do you want to lose that eye? Because I’ll poke it out with a fork.”

            Farkas shrugged, throwing another handful of water at Vilkas and hitting him in the face. In a moment of anger, Vilkas tossed the book he was reading at Farkas with his right hand. That being his bad hand, it flew about a foot to the left of Farkas and hit me in the side.

            Farkas laughed as Vilkas jumped to his feet and stalked toward me. “I’m sorry, Kara. I really didn’t mean to do that.”

            I rolled my eyes, turning my attention back to Farkas. “It’s a book, Vilkas, not a dagger. I’m fine.”

            Vilkas touched my side. “But I threw it really hard. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

            “You’re not going to poke anything out with a fork, Vilkas.” Farkas said, relaxing against the back of his chair. “You’d probably miss and poke me in the chin.”

            I popped the side of Farkas’ face with the hand not holding the rag, just hard enough to get my point across. “That’s enough. Do you want me to fix your eye or not?”

            “Sorry.” Farkas said, blinking apologetically. I held the rag over his eye again, squeezing a little more water in to try to rinse his eye out. He blinked profusely, then sat up straight. He kept blinking until a smile crept across his face. “That was it! It’s gone!” He hopped to his feet and scooped me up into a bear hug. “Thank you, Lissa. You’re a hero!”

            I laughed as Farkas bounced around and shook me like a rag doll. Vilkas couldn’t suppress a smile either, and he shook his head as he watched. After a moment, he set me back down and moved to the mirror across the room. He stared at his eye, rubbing away his smeared war paint and blinking at himself.

            A knock on my door pulled my attention away from Farkas, and I moved to open the door. Waiting on the other side was my brother, wearing baggy trousers, a dirty shirt, and a solemn face. His face fell slightly as he looked down at me, guilt and regret washing over him, and I instantly felt horrible for ignoring him.

            I sighed, looking away from his face and down at his outfit. “Cassius, please tell me you’re not wearing that shirt out.”

            His eyes lightened significantly at the remark, and he shrugged. “What’s wrong with it?”

            “Um, it’s disgusting.” I said, lifting a sleeve with my thumb and index finger, then dropping it again. “What is that? Baby spit-up and dirt?”

            Cass shrugged again. “We haven’t done laundry in a little while.”

            I smirked. “That’s disgusting. I’ll get you one of Vilkas’ shirts.” I turned on my heel toward the room off to the side of my office space, feeling my brother’s spirits lift a good bit as he registered that I wasn’t mad anymore.

            Though it wasn’t a bedroom anymore, I kept some of mine and Vilkas’ clothes in the dressers in case we stayed the night in Jorrvaskr. I pulled one of Vilkas’ bigger shirts from the drawer and returned to my office. Cassius stood with Vilkas, watching Farkas at the mirror. He hadn’t even looked up as my brother entered, but instead was using my case of cosmetic paint to retouch the smeared black coloring around his eyes.

            “Been crying, Fark?” Cassius asked, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t take you for a crier.”

            Farkas straightened up, looking twice as menacing with his warpaint so dark. He stared down at my brother and my husband intimidatingly. “Do either of you have anything to say? Maybe call me a baby or a crier again? Please, do it again.”

            Vilkas and Cassius turned away from him, and Farkas gave me a wink and a smile before he turned back to the mirror. I strode toward Cassius, handing him the blue shirt in my hands. “Here, wear this. Villy never wears blue anyway.”

            Cassius smiled at me, pulling his dirty shirt off and handing it to me. His exposed chest was riddled with burn scars I’d never seen before, probably from fighting fire-breathing dragons. I made a note to ask him about them another time as he pulled his head through Vilkas’ shirt. I dropped his nasty shirt into the waste bin near the door, deciding it would be better to burn it than wash it.

            As soon as he put it on and adjusted it to his chest, he sort of wiggled uncomfortably. “It’s all scratchy. How can you wear this, Vil?”

            “That’s what I’ve been saying!” I exclaimed, nudging Vilkas. “It’s like wearing sandpaper.”

            Vilkas shrugged. “I like it.” He turned toward Cassius. “Ready to head out?”

            “Yep.” Cass said, fiddling with the shirt again. He turned to me after a moment. “Listen, Karl. I want to talk to you about Ulfric. I’m really sorry for—”

            “I know.” I said, shoving my brother’s arm playfully. “I am too. Go out and have fun with Vilkas, and we’ll talk afterwards.”

            Cass smiled. “Okay, I’ll look forward to that.” He looked to Vilkas. “Drunken Huntsman sound okay, Vil? I’ve never actually been in there, but I’m not allowed in the Bannered Mare.”

            “That sounds fine, Cassius.” Vilkas said, a smirk on his usually angry face. He put his hand on my back, leaning down to kiss the side of my face. “We’ll meet you back at the house tonight.”

            “Okay, Villy. Don’t let him get too drunk.” I said as they strode from the room, chatting quietly to one another. I turned back to Farkas, who was leaning against the dresser attached to the mirror. “What do you want to do now?” I asked him.

            He folded his arms across his stomach. “I have two bottles of wine and a coloring book from Aela in my room.”

            “You know me so well.” I said, beaming at him. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I just realized in all of the other books I was spelling 'Eorlund' incorrectly. 
> 
> Anyone else miss Ulfric and Galmar? I really do. They'll be back soon!!


	6. A Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassius and Vilkas go to the Drunken Huntsman for a drink. Later, Cassius and Karalissa finally talk about their youth, and decide what to do about Ulfric.
> 
> POV: Cassius

            I sighed, setting my mug down on the table top. Vilkas stared back at me, watching me with a curious look in his eyes. I furrowed my brow, feeling a smirk stretch across my face. “What’s that look?”

            I’d missed the two of them, Karalissa and Vilkas. In all honesty, I always missed Karalissa. Nineteen years spent in constant company of a person will do that to you, and my sister and I had always been really close. Just like I had said to Ulfric: we were the best of friends. I had missed Vilkas a lot, though; more than I’d like to admit. Though we didn’t start off in a good place, over the years, Vilkas and I had become really good friends.

            He shrugged, grimacing as he usually did. “I was just wondering what you did to not be allowed in the Mare.”

            I laughed to myself, shaking my head at the memory. “Are you sure you want to know? I don’t want you to judge me too harshly.”

            Vilkas set his mug down too, making himself comfortable and folding his hands across his abdomen as he slouched in his chair.

            “So, when the Dragonborn was still...well, here. Let me go back a little. I went on all of these little missions all the time. They were unimportant to me, but to Farengar and Balgruuf and Delphine, they were so crucial. I was used to them asking me to go retrieve stone and horns and scrolls or whatever, but a time came where I had to seriously reevaluate who I was trusting. Delphine asked me to do something…horrible.”

            “I’m sorry, Cassius, but I don’t know who Delphine is.”

            I nodded, remembering that not everyone knew who I was talking about. “Delphine is a Blade. You know who the Blades are?”

            Vilkas scowled in confusion. “The Dragonslayers? They’re still around?”

            “Yeah, they came back when the dragons did.” I scratched my head. “Delphine was very particular about getting what she wanted. She would literally squash anybody who stood in the way of what she needed to get and she didn’t care who it was, she would take them down. The fateful day came, after where Delphine wanted to test my…I don’t know, her trust in me? She asked me to do something horrible, and I just…I couldn’t do it.”

            “What was it?” Vilkas asked, his brow furrowing.

            “There’s a dragon on the peak of the Throat of the World. An old and wise dragon who’s kind and humble. Paarthurnax taught me so much about the Way of the Voice that the Greybeards couldn’t, simply because they weren’t dov. Paarthurnax and I had an unexplainable connection, one that went deeper than mind because it was blood.

            “Delphine wanted me to kill him. She said that she couldn’t trust a dragon, and if I could then she didn’t trust me. But I swear by the gods, Vilkas, there’s something Paarthurnax told me that I always think of before I do absolutely anything.”

            “What?” he asked. I reached to the table beside us, which had charcoal on it for whatever reason, and I used that to scrawl a symbol on the cloth before me. I turned it toward Vilkas, and he stared at it for a moment before his gaze returned to me. “What does that mean?”

            “Feim.” I said, tapping the marking. “It translates to ‘fade’.” I leaned back in my chair again. “Mortals have great meaning for the word than the dov. Everything mortal fades away in time: money, property, life. Eventually, we’re all just a myth to the people who will surpass us in life. What Paarthunax told me was ‘unslaad zii’; where mortal flesh may wither and die, the spirit endures.

            “Anyway, I couldn’t do it. I actually threatened to kill Delphine, and Lydia had to drag me away from the wench so that I wouldn’t. That night, we went to the Bannered Mare and got absolutely wasted, and I got into a fist fight with Sinmir because he kept repeating himself and repeating himself and repeating himself. So now they won’t have me back.”

            Vilkas laughed, shaking his head. “Kara would like that story.”

            “I know she would.” I said, shaking my head. “She loves a good bar fight.”

            Vilkas raised an eyebrow. “Well, she does. But I meant about the dragon. Paarthurnax.”

            I felt my own brow crease with consideration. “Do you think so?” As he nodded, I shook my head and smiled to myself. “I think about that with every decision I’m faced with. Sometimes, I get angry and I can’t control myself or what I say or think, but that’s the dragon in me and it always has been. I have to focus on the mortality of my life. I think about that, unslaad zii, because the things that happen to us don’t matter at the end. When you’re standing before the mighty Tsun and asking for entrance into Sovngarde’s mess hall, you’re not really being tested on strength of arm, but strength of spirit.

“The things we do to other creatures, the decisions we make, the things we chose to do, that’s what matters. Because I want to be a good person. I want to do right by my family and my friends and everyone I meet. I want Lydia to love me, and I want Cat to look up to me. I want Karalissa to think of me and be proud to call me her brother.”

“She does.” Vilkas said, sighing. “Kara admires you. She loves you more than anyone else.”

            I gave Vilkas a curious once-over. “I don’t know about that, Vil. You’re a strong contender.”

            Vilkas smiled, his cheeks blushing for just a moment, but then he was serious again. “It’s the truth, Cassius. You’re her hero and you always have been.” He shifted in his seat. “I’m only going to tell you this because I feel that you need to hear it. I don’t talk about it, but I have the sinking suspicion that you don’t believe she isn’t really angry with you, and this will honestly confirm that she’s never mad at you.”

            I sat up straight. “Okay.”

            Vilkas pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “When I met Kara for the first time, I didn’t know what to think of her. Obviously, I’m not a very chipper person, and she reminds me daily that I’m a grump, so when this…bouncy little Nord girl marches up to Jorrvaskr and asks to join the Companions, I was appalled.

            “I loved her before this, but the day I absolutely fell in love with Kara was about two weeks after Skjor died. The day Viarmo came to Whiterun to find her and she nearly threw herself off of a cliff.”

            I blinked, my heart plummeting to the pit of my stomach and then shooting back up into my throat. I waited for the joke to end, but the look on Vilkas’ face told all. “Vilkas, what the hell are you saying? She what?”

            Vilkas nodded, taking another swig from his mug. “It was one of the most horrifying things I’ve ever seen, Cassius. She was so worked up, with everything that had just happened, she couldn’t control herself. Then the elf came through and was pushing her and pushing her for information, and she was so angry, I was worried she was going to let the beast take her and kill Viarmo in the middle of the bar.

            “She ran out of the door and away from Whiterun, and I followed behind her for a long time, but she was faster than I was. By the time I caught up to her, she was on the edge of this cliff and she was staring over the side. I swear, I was so convinced she was going to jump.”

            “I don’t understand, Vilkas. What had her so—”

            “She thought you were dead, Cassius.” Vilkas said, the saddest look on his face. “Kara thought you were dead and she never told anyone about it. So when Viarmo came up to us and started drilling her with questions about you, she was so overwhelmed with grief she couldn’t control the beast.

            “Kara has told me that the beast within her was screaming for her to kill Viarmo, and that’s probably true. But when I pulled her away from the edge, she told me about the day you both left Solitude and she was fine after that. And every day from there on out, she’s talked about you. She would tell me little side stories about her childhood, or a game you two used to play, or something you’d told her once. She admired you, even in death, and I didn’t know she could be happier than she already was, but when Farkas and I brought you back to Jorrvaskr…

            “She’s never mad at you. I know you think she’s angry because of whatever you said in Windhelm, but she’s not. Kara loves _you_ more than anyone in the world, and she always will. She has so many things she wants to say, and she just hasn’t figured out how to say them.” Vilkas raised an eyebrow. “I’ve found that it’s best not to give her options, though. She procrastinates.”

            I shook my head, absorbing Vilkas’ story. My heart was thudding in my chest at the thought of my sister that worked up, and I blinked a few times to try to shake the image of her falling off of a cliff from my mind.

            I sighed, pulling a folded envelope from my pocket and setting it on the table in front of Vilkas. He furrowed his brow as he picked it up and read the address line.

            “This is to the High King.” he said, staring at me in confusion. “You want to talk to him?”

            I nodded my head from side to side. “I want answers from him. I want him to actually talk to us, not just tell us his life story. I assume Karl told you what he said?”

            Vilkas shook his head. “She’s been…upset. She has a lot she needs to say, but she hasn’t said anything, really. She told me that Ulfric Stormcloak said he was her father, but not much else.” He fiddled with his mug on the table. “She hasn’t told me what you said to him either.”

            I scratched my beard, thinking about how to explain this to him. I did regret what I had said to Ulfric, and not because it didn’t need to be said, but because I shouldn’t have said it to _him_. There were so many things Karalissa and I never talked about that we should have, and I hated that even as adults, we felt like we couldn’t.

            With a sigh, I leaned back in my chair. “I was angry, and I told him all of the bad things that have happened to us, things Karalissa and I never even talk about. I told him that Karalissa was kidnapped and that you were killed. I told him that our mother remarried, told him that Viarmo was horrible. Still is horrible, probably.

            “Karalissa and I need to talk about that, because I think we both have very different ideas of what happened before we left Solitude, and we’ve never spoken about it. It’s my fault, really, because I don’t like to talk about stuff like that. It’s easier to pretend it never happened, but we can’t anymore. Karalissa can’t. I can’t.”

            Vilkas nodded, seemingly confused but understanding at the same time. “Kara should be back at the house by now. She and Farkas could talk for hours about absolutely nothing, but Kara gets restless and comes home around this time.” He set his mug down, putting a few septims on the table to pay for the mead. “We could go talk to her now.”

            I nodded, adding a few septims to the pile. “Sounds fine to me.”

            Vilkas and I both stood, striding from the Drunken Huntsman and out into the streets of Whiterun. Their house was literally right across the street, so it took all of two seconds to arrive at the front door.

            “You know, I lived here for almost three years and I never went to the Drunken Huntsman.” I said as Vilkas unlocked the door. “It was a nice little place.”

            “Aye.” Vilkas said, pushing the door open. “It’s not bad. I don’t mind not having to listen to Mikael, either. Damned bard is annoying.”

            “You’ve got that right.” I said, stepping into the house after Vilkas. He tossed his keys into a bowl by the door, then walked through to the kitchen.

            “She’s not here yet.” he said.

            “How can you know?” I asked, following behind him and sitting at the table in their kitchen.

            “The first thing Kara does when she comes home is walk in here and pull out a bunch of cups. She always picks a specific one to drink out of before she comes home, and she pulls everything out to try and find it.”

            “That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.” I said, shaking my head.

            “Aye, she’s odd.” Vilkas said with a little laugh. He cut a piece of bread and smeared a little butter on it, then took a huge bite.

            Right on cue, the front door unlocked and Karalissa walked through the frame. She also tossed her keys into the bowl by the door, then she looked over at us.

            “Agh.” she mumbled, rubbing her face. “I thought I’d have time to clean up before you came over.”

            I looked around at the living area, which was actually pretty clean compared to my home. “It looks fine, Karl. I don’t care about that anyway.”

            “I care.” she said, walking sort of staggered toward us. “I don’t want you to think I’m a slob.” Just as Vilkas said, she began to pull cups from the cabinet, setting them on the table until she found the one she wanted.

            “No one thinks that, Kara.” Vilkas said, cutting another piece of bread as Karalissa poured herself a drink. He buttered another piece and handed to her.

            “Are you drunk?” I asked as Karalissa took a bite of the bread, nearly as huge as the bite Vilkas had taken.

            “Mm, maybe a little.” she said around the mouthful of bread, sitting down beside me. “Farkas and I were coloring in this book Aela gave him. It was all pictures that needed to be filled in, and we almost finished the whole thing.”

            “So, you and Farkas don’t actually do anything related to the Companions together?” I asked her.

            “Nope. We do fun stuff.”

            Vilkas snorted, handing her another piece of bread. “Coloring is fun for you?”

            She looked appalled. “Uh, yeah. Is coloring _not_ fun for you?”

            “Do I come off as someone who colors?” he countered, sitting down across from us.

            Karalissa shrugged. “You don’t come off as someone who shops, but you do that quite frequently.”

            “Yeah, with _you_. You’ve plagued me.” Vilkas said, leaning against his palm. “Soon, I’ll be coloring too.”

            “And you’ll have a great time.” she said as she turned to me. She stared at me for a minute before she spoke. “Your hair is long.”

            I furrowed my brow. “Yeah, Karl. So is yours.”

            “My hair has always been long.” she said, rolling her eyes. “Yours is like…long _now_. Almost as long as when we lived in the Rift.”

            “Does it look bad?”

            “No.” she said, pulling a hair elastic from her wrist. “Can I put it up?”

            I jerked my head back. “Why?”

            She groaned. “Because it’s long and I want to play with it. Farkas never lets me.”

            “Farkas is very particular about his hair.” Vilkas said, watching Karalissa stand and run her hands through my hair.

            “I just want to braid it.” she grumbled. “He never lets me.” She twisted my hair into a bun on the back of my head, securing it with the hair tie. Then, she hopped around to the other side of the table, where she looked at it for a long time. “Um, yep. You should always do your hair like that.”

            I reached back to feel it. “Does it look—”

            “Don’t touch it!” she yelled, extending her arm to stop me. “You’ll mess it up.”

            Vilkas shrugged. “It actually doesn’t look bad.”

            I sighed, shrugging myself. “Fine, I’ll leave it like this. For tonight only.”

            Karalissa poured herself another drink before she sunk down into the seat beside Vilkas. “Keep that elastic.” She put her head on Vilkas’ shoulder, exhaling for a long time. “Let’s talk about the stuff now.”

            Vilkas slid the cup away from her slowly. “Are you sure you need another drink?”

            Karalissa nodded wearily. “If we’re going to do this, I definitely need it.” Vilkas glanced at me quickly, trying to consider what he should do, then he slid the drink back to her.

            I pulled the letter from my pocket again, setting it on the table in front of Karalissa. She looked down at it, her curious eyes fixed on the letters scrawled across the envelope. As she processed what it said, she sat up again.

            “What does it say?” she asked.

            I opened the unsealed flap, pulling the letter from the envelope and reading it out loud to her. “Ulfric, I’ve spent a long time simmering, thinking about whether or not I even wanted to talk to you again. After much consideration, I’ve decided that this is something that I can’t ignore as you have for so long. There are things that need to be said.

            “I want to begin by apologizing for the way I reacted to your words. I often become so overwhelmed that I can’t control my words, and I regret saying the things I said because I was trying to hurt you. That being said, I feel the need to emphasize that I am not apologizing for hurting you, but for hurting my sister.

            “The things that have happened to her and I have absolutely nothing to do with you, and I shouldn’t have directed them toward you. I would like to actually talk to you, like civilized Nords, but I would prefer you come to us. I have questions, and I’m sure you do too.

            “Come to my home, Lakeview Manor, on the approaching Fridas at any time. We’ll be waiting, whether you decide to come or not. I hope you do. Cass.”

            Karalissa pursed her lips, blinking a few times as she took a long swig of her drink. After a moment, she set the mug down and looked up at me. “Are we invited?”

            “Of course you’re invited, Karl.” I said, shaking my head. “I’m only going to send this letter if you want me to.”

            She seemed confused. “Why? You don’t need my permission—”

            “Karalissa, I cannot do this without you, and I won’t.” I explained. “I didn’t give you a choice in a lot of things we’ve done. I know I shouldn’t have said those things to Ulfric in Windhelm, and if I could take them back I would. This is up to you. I won’t talk to him unless you want to too.”

            “I’m not mad at you, brother.” she said, finishing her drink. “I was just…I don’t know how to explain it to you because you don’t carry the blood that I do. When a lot is happening, a lot is taking a toll on my emotions, it feeds the beast. I wasn’t angry or upset, I was trying to suppress the wolf.”

            I nodded, a small smile on my face. “We do carry the same blood, Karl. Yours may be a little furrier, and mine a bit scaly, but ours is identical blood. And it’s also Ulfric’s blood, if what he says is true.”

            Karalissa nodded. “Should we write to Ma? There’s part of me that doesn’t believe it, just because she hasn’t said it.”

            I sighed, scratching my beard again. “I thought about that too. I feel the same way, but I just don’t think I can write to her.”

            Vilkas’ brow furrowed. “Why not?”

            “Because I can’t have Viarmo coming too.” I said, turning back to Karalissa. “Karl, do you want to talk about Viarmo?”

            She spent a moment in silence. “No. I don’t.” she said, smiling kindly at me. “Thank you for asking, though.”

            “When you do want to talk about him, I’ll listen. That being said, though, I think I _have_ to talk about him.” I said, waiting as Karalissa nodded for me to continue. “I hate him, Karl. That’s why I said the things I said to Ulfric. I hate that he tricked us into thinking he was a good man, made us think he would be a good addition to our little family. I hate him for hurting her, because I know she asked us not to acknowledge it, but he wasn’t trying to hide it after a while. I hate that he tried to drive a wedge between us and Ma, and I hate that it worked because he made Ma so weak.

            “But the more I think about it, I don’t think I’m angry with Viarmo. I think I’m angry with myself.” I said, shaking my head. “I hate that I let him push us around. I hate that I chose that it was safer to ignore Ma crying than trying to help her. I hate that I turned away from the bruises on her skin, and I hate that I didn’t say anything when they started showing up on you, too. I hate that I didn’t protect either of you, because that’s what I was supposed to do.

“And I’m sorry, Karalissa, because we should have talked about this before now. It’s been a long time now, and I can’t express to you how sorry I am for trying to pretend it never happened.”

            Karalissa stared at me, her face twisting into an expression I hadn’t ever seen before. It wasn’t sad or angry; it was like she wasn’t even really there. She sighed, shaking her head. “It wasn’t your job to protect us, Cass. It was Ma’s job to protect us, and she didn’t. Don’t put that on yourself.”

            “Ma wasn’t right in the head to stay with him, so how could we trust her to protect us? And even if it wasn’t on me to protect _her_ , it was on me to protect _you_. And I didn’t, and I’m sorry.” I snuck a glance at Vilkas, who was just staring absently with his jaw locked.

            “Please, don’t treat me like I’m weak, brother.” Karalissa mumbled, her brow furrowed. “I protected myself just fine when you weren’t around. He may have thought that I was the weaker link in our little duo, but that didn’t mean I was truly weak.

            “I feel no indignation or sadness in regards to Viarmo. I hate him too, but he very rarely crosses my mind these days. He was, and likely still is, an awful individual, and I don’t waste my time thinking about him. If Ma wants to stay with him, that’s her business. A year ago, before the war, I thought the same way you do now. Maybe we could have done something to help her, to convince her to leave him. But you were right, that _is_ a stupid and childish thought because you can’t convince the mad not to do mad things.

            “I don’t know what you saw or heard him do, but what I saw was terrible. She’s crazy if she loves him, Cass, and I want nothing to do with that. I love Ma, but I won’t involve myself in the storm she brings along with her. It was her choice to let him hurt her, let him make her feel weak, but I won’t ever let anyone make me feel that way. I’m not weak, and I never have been. I endured the time we lived with him in our lives. You may not like it, but if my taking a few blows spared them for Ma, I’m fine with that. And that doesn’t make me weak.

            “So stop apologizing to me. I don’t want you to feel sorry for anything that happened, because none of it was your fault. There are things that shouldn’t have happened just like there are things that should have. But wallowing in what has been prevents you from preparing for what’s to come.”

            I watched as Karalissa straightened her back, leaning away from the table and looking over at Vilkas. He was still staring blankly, just listening to the conversation we were having. She exhaled sharply. “Does anyone else want a drink? Because I’m having another.”

            She stood before either of us could answer, pouring three drinks and setting one in front of each of us. We all sat quietly for a while, thinking about the things we’d said. I felt a range of emotions, all vastly different, but none of them what I expected to feel.

            “I don’t feel as angry about that as I thought I would.” I said to my sister, who was sort of swirling the mead around in her cup. “I always thought about hearing you actually say that out loud, and I imagined I would be angrier.”

            “You can’t be surprised about something you already know.” she said, shrugging. “I thought you’d be angrier too, for what it’s worth.”

            “Mm, Vil seems angrier than either of us.” I suggested, looking over at him.

            Karalissa’s face crumpled at my words, but he stopped her before she could say anything. “Never angry, pup. I’m sorry this happened to both of you.” he said, pulling his eyes up from the table to look at her. He pushed her hair away from her face. “I would take it away from you if I could.”

            Her brow furrowed again, in confusion this time. “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t change anything.” She looked back to me. “Brother, if our life had been any different, we wouldn’t be so happy now. If Ma hadn’t married Viarmo, we would have never gotten into that fight with him. We never would have left Solitude, you wouldn’t have gone to Helgen. You never would have learned you were the Dragonborn, or defeated Alduin, or have met Lydia. You wouldn’t have Catriona.” My chest swelled at the thought, realizing that was absolutely true.

            “And I wouldn’t have gone to Riften after we were separated.” Karalissa continued. “I would have never left Riften to find work in Whiterun, I never would have killed that giant. I never would have joined the Companions and met Aela and Farkas and Vilkas. I never would have fallen in love and married Vilkas, and gods, I love him.” She looked up at Vilkas, who looked near tears now. “I wouldn’t change any of it. The bad was bad, but the good is _so_ good.”

            I nodded, smiling at my sister. “I hate that you’re always right.” I said, earning a soft laugh from her.

            She shrugged, leaning against Vilkas again. “Mail the letter, brother. Ulfric meant well by not telling us, I’m sure. And he was your friend, so he has to be a good man.”

            I folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. “Alright.” I said, a hopeful grin stretching across my face. “We’ll meet at my house on Fridas morning, then. And if he shows up, we’ll talk.”

            “And if not?” Vilkas asked, his arm around my sister.

            I sighed. “Then we’ll know where we all stand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh, does anyone else miss Ulfric and Galmar? I think those little babies are gonna have to come back soon.
> 
> Coming up: Arabella's chapter is next. Shenanigans ensue.


	7. A Piercing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cicero talks Arabella into getting a piercing. Later, Arabella makes a new friend.
> 
> POV: Arabella

            “Listener?” a voice said from behind me, deep and husky and accompanied by a knock at the door. I looked up from my desk toward the doorway, where Nikulas loomed in the frame.

            “Yes?” I responded, my brow furrowed. Though the recruits frequently came down to speak to me, Nikulas was rarely one of them. As our newest recruit, he’d mostly kept to himself in the months he’d been living in the sanctuary.

            “I was hoping I could speak with you for a moment, if that’s alright.”

            I nodded, gesturing to the chair across from me. Nikulas shut the door behind him, then stalked toward my desk rather stiffly. I stacked my papers together, which was just a flowchart of people connected to my brothers, and tucked them into a folder in the drawer behind me. After a moment, I looked back at him, folding my hands on the surface of my desk.

            “What would you like to discuss?” I asked, my tone revealing my curiosity.

            Nikulas exhaled, fiddling with the buckles on his shrouded gloves. “I was out on contract, and I returned late last night.”

            “Yes,” I said, nodding. “And how did that go for you?”

            “It went quite well, actually.” he noted, running his hand through his shoulder-length, blond hair. “The contract was a lumberjack out in Morthal, which is a few days travel on foot.”

            “And you were successful?” I asked, unsure of why we were actually having this conversation. The details of a successful contract were usually given to Nazir to receive payment.

            “Oh, yes. Of course.” he said, looking rather pale. “There was just…a little problem.”

            “And that is?”

            “Well, the lumberjack took a few swipes at me.” he said, his voice echoing with embarrassment. “He cut my side pretty deep, and I’m just worried it needs to be looked at.”

            I understood then. The entire sanctuary knew that I was the one to come to for restoration and healing. For Nikulas to ask for help, though, I knew it couldn’t be good. He was the type to value his pride over his health.

            I stood from my desk, gesturing for him to stand too. “Let’s see it, then.”

            Nikulas nodded, standing and unbuckling the top of his armor. He slid his right arm out of the sleeve with ease, and then he slowly removed his left arm. He stood before me, his chest exposed as the top of his armor hung around his hips, and lifted his left arm to expose a deep gash on his side. I furrowed my brow, moving closer to look at it.

            I crouched beside him, investigating the yellowed cut. It was deep, and definitely infected by the look of the inflamed edges and puss trickling from the side.

            “By Sithis, Nikulas. This is bad.” I noted, looking up at him. I pulled my cowl away from my face. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

            He smiled at me sheepishly. “It took a few days to travel back here, and when I did, everyone was asleep.”

            “I wasn’t asleep.” I mumbled, looking back at the cut. “A few more hours and this could have become fatal. Always wake me if you’re injured.”

            “Of course, Listener.” he said, wincing in pain as I touched the edges of this wound. “I just didn’t want to cause a commotion. Thomas and Mareena like to tease each other when they mess something up, and I just didn’t want to be a part of that.”

            I sighed. “Thomas and Mareena are young, just as you are.” I said, placing my bare hand against the wound and gagging internally as I felt the puss touch my palm. “This job comes with wounds, and you’ll receive them frequently. That’s not messing up.”

            As my hand began to glow, Nikulas grunted in pain. The magic began to work, eliminating the infection and tugging his skin back together beneath my hand. It was finished in a mere moment, and I removed my hand.

            “It feels much better.” Nikulas said, the color returning to his face.

            “I would imagine so.” I said, tapping the side of abdomen where a new mark was evident. “It leaves a dark scar, but it’s better than dying. Hope that doesn’t bother you.”

            “It doesn’t at all.” he said, extending a hand to help me to my feet. “Thank you, Listener.”

            I waved my hand at him, turning back toward my desk. “No need for all of that, brother. Just dress yourself.” I said, raising an eyebrow. “And come to me next time you’re injured, regardless of whether I’m sleeping or not.”

            “Of course, Listener.” Nikulas said with a crooked grin, beginning to pull the armor up over his chest again.

            At that moment, Cicero invited himself into my room, a bowl in his hands. “I brought you breakfast, Liste—” He cut his sentence short as he took in the scene before him. He gave Nikulas a slow once-over, the recruit still pulling his armor up over his arms and buckling it across his chest. “Having fun in here?” he asked, his voice low and dark.

            I rolled my eyes. “Nikulas failed to mention that he was injured on contract, and his wound had become infected.” I explained, walking to the washbasin to wash my hands. “It won’t happen again, of course. Right, brother?”

            “No, of course not, Listener.” Nikulas said, sounding rather on-edge now that Cicero was here. We both knew exactly what Cicero was concluding, but the Keeper smiled and laughed as Nikulas waited for instructions.

            “You’re dismissed, recruit.” Cicero said to him, and Nikulas slunk out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Cicero shook his head walking toward my desk and hopping up to sit on top of it. “I brought you some breakfast.” he said, a smile on his face.

            I dried my hands, returning to my seat and relaxing as I took the bowl from Cicero. I looked down at the oatmeal, which had the perfect amount of peanut butter added to it. I smirked, knowing that Cicero had dolloped it on top after Nazir handed it to him. I couldn’t stand the brown sugar Nazir put in oatmeal, and I always had to mask it with peanut butter.

            “You know me so well.” I said, stirring it and taking a bite. “Thank you.”

            “Humble Cicero lives to serve.” he said, smiling evilly. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling some needles from the inner pocket and removing his glove on his right hand. He began to poke at himself while I ate. “What do you have planned for today?”

            I shrugged, taking another bite of my breakfast. “I think I may go to Whiterun to visit Mikael. It’s been a while.” I tapped his leg with my spoon. “Want to come?”

            Cicero shrugged. “I promised Mareena I would practice with her this evening. Since she spoke with you a few days ago, she’s been on my back about training. Figure I might as well get it over with.”

            “Suit yourself.” I said. “You don’t seem too enthused to train with her.”

            He scowled. “It’s not that I don’t like to train, because I do. It’s just that I think she finds me attractive.”

            I smiled a little behind my spoon, staring at Cicero quizzically. “What’s wrong with that?”

            Cicero shot me an irritated glance. “We all know I’m a catch, Arabella. She just doesn’t focus properly. She concentrates too hard on getting my attention instead of actually learning anything.” He offered me a little sideways grin. “Not that I’m complaining.”

            I snorted with laughter. “She’s young. She’ll learn.”

            “It doesn’t bother you that a young, moderately attractive woman finds me appealing?” Cicero asked, a sly grin creeping across his face.

            “Not at all.” I said simply, finishing my oatmeal and setting it aside.

            Cicero shrugged, his attempt to get a rise out of me having failed. “She’s not my type anyway. I prefer short, gothic Breton girls with voices in their heads.”

            “I’m flattered.” I said, rolling my eyes. “‘Gothic’ is an interesting word.”

            Cicero smiled, setting his poking needle aside and reaching into his coat again. “That reminds me: I had an idea.”

            “Oh, great. I’m so excited to hear it.”

            “Spare me your sarcasm, Arabella.” he said, holding out his palm to show me a needle and a small hoop. “I was thinking we could pierce your lip.”

            I jerked my head back. “Cicero, you can’t be serious.”

            He groaned, rolling backwards off of the desk and landing next to me. “Hear me out on this.”

            “I’d really rather not.”

            “I got all of the equipment to pierce my own lips, but then I put it on and it looked so stupid, Arabella.” He pointed to the small hole on his bottom lip, then held the little hoop up in front of it. I understood immediately, the ring making his nose look rather large.

            “I see what you mean.” I said.

            “But then I got to thinking, and I think it would actually look really cute on you.” he said, grabbing a small mirror off of my vanity and holding it up. “You’ve got a cute little nose and I think it would look good.”

            I watched as he held the ring to my middle of my lip, looking at my reflection and deciding it actually didn’t look bad. I sighed, looking back up at him. “Okay, I actually kind of like it.”

            “I know! I do too!”

            I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Alright, if I let you do this, you have to swear to me that your needles are clean and you washed that ring after you put it in your mouth.”

            “I promise! I promise!” he said, jumping around in excitement. “Oh, Arabella, this is going to look great. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

            “Yeah, yeah.” I said, laughing quietly to myself. I scooched forward in my chair, poking my chin out a little to give him easier access to my lower lip. “Just do it.” He grinned wickedly, pressing the needle to my flesh.

           

 

            I rolled my eyes, watching Mikael flirt with the tavern-maid beside him. He leaned against his palm, his weight supported by his outstretched arm with his hand against the wall behind her, staring down at her and whispering little nothings in her ear. The redguard woman giggled, but she looked back up at Hulda and decided to get back to work. She spoke into Mikael’s ear, and he raised an eyebrow as he watched her walk away.

            Mikael strolled back to me, his face smug. He hopped up onto the counter behind the bar, looking over at me from where I sat on my barstool. “She’s going to meet me upstairs later tonight. I believe you owe me five septims.”

            I shook my head, laughing to myself as I handed over the coins from the bet I’d just lost. “You’re disgusting. I’ll pick a harder target, next time.” I said.

            Mikael grinned. “So, tell me about this dark phase you’re going through.”

            “What phase? I’ve always looked like this.”

            He guffawed with laughter. “Maybe the clothes, Arabella, but what about this?” He reached forward to smear my black eye-makeup. “Or this?” He tapped my new lip ring.

            I rolled my eyes. “I’m a grown woman, Mikael. I can do as I please.”

            He shook his head. “I believe Cicero has been a bad influence on you.”

            I laughed softly, shrugging in agreement. “I can’t argue with that. He’s ruined me.”

            “Mikael!” Hulda yelled from the kitchen. “Get off of my bar. I’m not paying you to stand around and converse.”

            “Of course, Hulda!” Mikael hollered back, hopping off of the counter and walking around to his spot again. “Sorry, Bells. I’ve got a job to keep. Give me twenty minutes.”

            “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” I said, waving him off and turning back to the bar. I sipped my drink, listening as Mikael strummed his lute and began to sing again. I wandered into thought, only for a moment, before the stool beside me was pulled out and a Nord sat beside me.

            “Mind if I sit?” she asked, a drink in one hand and a book in the other. She had long, light brown hair, stretching down to the middle of her stomach, and big brown eyes that stared at me quizzically, a long scar descending over the one on the right. She seemed so familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen her before.

            “Not at all.” I said, twisting my cup in my hands.

            She snapped her fingers, popping her fist against the counter. “I know you! You gave me money to give to the Dragonborn.” she said, pointing at me. Then she scowled, making exasperated noises to herself. “I never gave it to him. I think it’s still sitting on my bookshelf.”

            I exhaled quickly, expressing mild humor. “I figured something like that would happen.” I watched her talk, realizing that she was the piece I forgot to connect in my flowchart.

            The woman shrugged, taking a drink from Hulda, who returned from the kitchen to tend the bar. “I’ll give it to him tomorrow. My husband and I are riding out to his home to visit with him and his family.” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I forgot something like that. Two strangers hand me a satchel of coin and I forget it exists.” She extended her hand. “I’m Karalissa, by the way.”

            I shook her hand, furrowing my brow. “Arabella.”

            She leaned against her palm, propping herself up on the counter. “You look so edgy. I could never pull that off.”

            “Are you always this talkative?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “Or are you just drunk?”

            She sighed. “A little of both, I think. My husband says I talk too much. He’s out with my brother and his brother. They’re having a fun ‘brother party’ and I wasn’t invited.” Karalissa shook her head. “You do look really edgy, though. I like it.”

            Mikael popped up from behind me, eager to involve himself in the conversation. “You should see her lover.” he noted, jabbing me in the side. “He’d blow your mind.”

            “Mikael.” Hulda said, pointing back to the fire in the center of the room. Mikael rolled his eyes and returned to his singing.

            “What does he look like? Describe it.” Karalissa asked, finishing her drink and asking for another.

            I straightened up, taking a long swig from my drink. I didn’t typically converse with strangers, but she was the missing link. I had to get to know her to figure out how she was connected, but she was also rather intriguing. She reminded me of myself before Falkreath.

            “Well, he pierced his ear not too long ago. Just one, though.” I explained. “He’s got six studs in his right ear, and it shows especially now that he’s shaved the right side of his head.” I shook my head, feeling my liquor finally starting to kick in. “And he’s going through this phase where he gives himself little stick-and-poke tattoos. Just sporadically, throughout the day. He’ll be sitting at the table for supper and he just pulls out these needles and gives himself a new tattoo.”

            “He does tattoos?” Karalissa asked, her eyes wide. “That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. I wish my husband did cool stuff like that. He just sulks.”

            “Sulking is a fun activity, in my opinion.” I said, offering her a sideways grin.

            “You’d get along with him just fine.” she noted, rolling her eyes before she rested her head in her palm again. “Did your edgy lover pierce your lip?”

            I touched the ring, resting around the center of my bottom lip. “He did. Just this morning, actually.”

            “It looks edgy.” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think I’m edgy enough. I’ve been watching you from over there, and I was thinking to myself, I should be friends with the edgy girl. She seems fun.”

            I laughed a little. “I can promise you, I’m not fun.” She wobbled a little, and I put my hand on her shoulder. “Any particular reason you’re so drunk?”

            “I haven’t even had that much to drink. I’m just a terrible light-weight.” she explained with a sigh. “I have to meet my father for the first time tomorrow. Well, it’s not really the first time, but I just recently found out he was my father.”

            I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity peaked. “So you’re a drunken rambler.” I stated, pulling her drink away from her. “How did you just recently find out he was your father?”

            Karalissa groaned. “Well, he was a friend of my brother’s for a long time, but he just told us a few weeks ago that he was really our father. The whole thing is complicated and confusing. Anyway, my brother wrote him this letter and now we’re all going out to his house tomorrow to talk. It’s going to be long and heart-wrenching, and I don’t know if I have the emotional stability for that.”

            I laughed again, louder than I had in a long time. In all honesty, I forgot that I should have been trying to get information on the Dragonborn. She was just fun to talk to. “Do any of us have the emotional stability for that? I can’t imagine having to sit down and talk to _my_ father. I’d probably punch him in the throat.”

            Karalissa gasped, wiggling in her chair. “You have daddy issues too? Let’s compare! Go!”

            “My mother was a mistress, and my father had another wife.” I said with a smirk.

            “Oh, gross. I hate hearing that.” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t even know what my father looked like until recently. I know exactly what my step-father looks like though.”

            “Ugh, step-fathers. I never had one of those, but I had a headmistress.”

            “Headmistress?” she asked, her brow furrowed. “Like college?”

            “Close.” I said sarcastically. “An orphanage.”

            Karalissa shook her head, patting my back. “Okay, you win. Your father was worse than both of mine. That’s almost as bad as my husband’s father, and I won’t even get into that.”

            “Maybe another time.” I said, scooting her drink back toward her. “What do you do when you’re not here?”

            “Oh, I’m never here.” she said, slugging down some more mead. “I’m a Companion. There’s nothing to do in Jorrvaskr right now, though. It’s too late to interact with anyone because they’re all asleep. My husband and his brother are out. My friend Aela has been on a hunting trip for two days. My friend Codus is asleep. So I’m here because I can’t sleep by myself and we didn’t have any liquor at home.”

            “As good of a reason to be here as any.” I said, signaling Hulda for another drink myself.

            “What about you?” Karalissa asked. “What do you do?”

            I cleared my throat. “I’m a wanderer. I live with a group of people outside of Dawnstar.”

            “Bleh.” she grumbled. “Dawnstar is too cold.”

            “I don’t mind it much.” I said, pulling my cowl off of my head. “It’s not as cold down here as I expected it to be, though. I used to live in Falkreath, so everywhere feels too cold now.”

            “I visited Falkreath with my husband a few months ago. There was absolutely nothing to do there.”

            “Not a thing.” I agreed, smiling crookedly.

            Karalissa seemed to have very little concept of personal space, or she was just too drunk to stop herself from touching the long scar across my cheek. Either way, I didn’t really mind. “Where’d you get this?”

            I exhaled sharply. “I got into a fight with a vampire and his wife.” I tapped the scar across her eye. “What about this?”

            She pulled her hair back into a loose bun as she explained. “I lost a fight with a crazy man called ‘the Skinner’. He almost killed me, and he really killed my friend.” She shook her head at the thought, then pointed to the dark scar on my neck. “That one?”

            “A bandit tried to kill me and pick my pockets.” I touched the little one on her nose. “This one.”

            “A Thalmor torturer threatened to cut my nose off for information.” She took another swig of her drink. “The eyebrows.”

            I touched the little scars at the edge of my brow. “Oh, those are from a time I tripped and fell into a bush when I was young. Nothing actually interesting.”

            Karalissa laughed. “Your accent is fun.” she said, releasing her hair from the bun and then putting it back up. “Do you ever think about accents? It’s like…everyone has an accent if they don’t sound like you. But to everyone else, _you_ probably have an accent.”

            “That’s an intriguing perspective.” I sighed, shaking my head. “You know, I hate Whiterun. I only keep coming back to visit Mikael, and he’s actually annoying.”

            “He is annoying.” Karalissa laughed. “When I moved here from Riften, I came here to do some work and all he did was talk smack about the Companions.”

            “Mikael needs a good slap to the face every once in a while.” I said, looking back at him as he walked up to us.

            “Did I hear my name?” he asked.

            “You did.” Karalissa confirmed. “We were talking about how we should probably slap you. So, be weary of that.”

            “Slap me?” he asked, his eyes confused.

            “I’m just forewarning you.” Karalissa noted, finishing her drink. She sighed, setting a stack of septims on the table. “I should probably head home now. I don’t think I watered my plants today, and if I drink any more I’ll probably die.” She slid the book she was holding toward me. It was a worn, green book with a broken spine. “This is my favorite book. You should read it.”

            I smiled, admiring the gesture. “Thank you. I’ll start reading it this evening.”

            She nodded. “Good. And if you’re ever back here, let’s get a drink again. I’m fond of you.”

            “I’ll come back next week. Turdas evening? Same time?”

            Karalissa danced around a little. “Yes! Yay!” she exclaimed, hugging me around the shoulders. “It was nice to meet you, Arabella.”

            “Nice to meet you too, Karalissa.” I said, patting her arm. Then, she released me and bounced out of the Bannered Mare, humming to herself.

            Mikael shook his head. “What a strange girl.”

            I smiled to myself, nodding in agreement. “Very strange, indeed.”


	8. A Concoction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karalissa is hung over from her night at the Bannered Mare, and Aela helps her remedy the nausea. Later, Vilkas and Karalissa travel to Lakeview to join Lydia and Cassius as they wait for Ulfric Stromcloak to arrive.
> 
> POV: Karalissa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, friends.
> 
> First of all, how is this story already at nearly one hundred hits? You guys rock. It's so unexpected but so satisfying to know that you all are keeping up with the story and enjoying what you read. I love seeing your comments and interacting with all of you.
> 
> Okay, so here comes Ulfric. We've been waiting for this moment for a hot minute, huh? Well, without any further distraction, here's Karalissa puking!!!

            I groaned, leaning over the wastebin in my office as I heaved again, spilling the contents of my stomach into the can. My face was tingling, like little needles poking my cheeks again and again and again. There was an unstoppable pounding in my head, slamming against the side of my skull with so much force, my eyes were pulsating.

            Vilkas pulled my hair away from my face as I vomited again, handing me a rag to wipe my mouth with. I looked up at him, my eyes watering from the sheer misery I was feeling. “Gods be good, Vilkas. I’m never drinking again.”

            He nodded, tying my hair behind my head in a loose knot. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sick.”

            “I don’t think I’ve ever _been_ this sick. I feel like I’m dying.” I told him, leaning over the bucket as another wave of nausea plagued me, forcing me to throw up again. It had been nonstop from the moment I woke up that morning, and I really needed it to stop.

            “Why did you get so drunk?” Vilkas asked, wiping my face with a damp rag. “You knew we were going out to Lakeview today.”

            I looked up at Vilkas, and he nodded because he already knew the answer. The past few weeks had been ridiculously emotional for me, especially since I’d told my brother about Viarmo. When we’d talked, I had tried to express very little emotion regarding the subject, because I didn’t want Cassius to feel guilty for something he shouldn’t. Vilkas knew me better than that, though, and once my brother had left our home, Vilkas had held me for a few hours while I cried, unable to stop myself.

            Since we visited Windhelm, I’d been drinking an excessive amount. I couldn’t explain what compelled me to do it, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was easier to drink and not think about the past and the present. I felt guilty for it, because Vilkas had been so patient with me. He was waiting for me to actually accept my own emotions, so he never asked me to talk about anything that had happened. I did feel really, really bad that I hadn’t told him about Viarmo, but when I apologized for keeping that from him, he had simply said he understood. He never liked to talk about his childhood, so he wouldn’t make me talk about mine.

            Vilkas was still wiping my face with a rag when Farkas walked into my office, and he stopped when he saw me sitting on the floor with a bucket between my legs, my face sweaty and my eyes watering as I vomited again. He looked concerned, and he walked toward the two of us.

            “Is she hung-over?” he asked Vilkas, his brow furrowed in confusion.

            Vilkas nodded. “Aye. Very hung-over.”

            “How long has she been going on like that?”

            Vilkas shook his head. “A few hours. I’m getting concerned.” He handed me a glass of water from the table.

            I took a sip, the tiniest sip because it felt like liquid fire going down my throat. I stared up at Farkas, who looked down at me with a crooked smile. “I leave to you all of my books, even though I gave my favorite one away last night. I also leave to you my husband, who is very patient and apparently doesn’t mind the smell of vomit.”

            “Oh, I mind.” Vilkas said, wiping my mouth again from where he sat in the chair behind me. He made me take another sip of the water. “You’re not dying, but I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

            “Oh, I learned, Villy.” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll never touch a mug again. This is terrible.”

            Farkas snorted. “Hang on, I’ll get Aela.” He left the room as he spoke, turning right toward Aela’s room.

            I looked up at Vilkas, leaning my head against his knee. “I’m really sorry, Villy.”

            He smirked, pushing my hair away from my clammy forehead. “No need for apologies, pup. You would do the same for me.” I nodded, assuring him that I would. He kept his hand against the side of my face. “I’m sorry you’re in so much pain right now.”

            “It will pass. I didn’t know hang-overs were actually like this.” I shook my head, shutting my eyes as I rested against him.

            Vilkas sighed. “I meant about Viarmo, and your mother and Ulfric.”

            I opened my eyes, prepared to defend myself and deny it, but the way Vilkas looked at me, so understanding and knowing, I just decided to embrace it. “That will pass, too.”

            He ran his thumb over the scar across my eye. “I love you, if that helps any.”

            “It does.” I said, smiling up at him. “I love you, too. Just don’t kiss me right now. I probably taste disgusting.”

            Vilkas laughed. “I didn’t plan on it.”

            Farkas returned then, Aela right behind him. She was stirring a goopy, brown liquid in a glass cup. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of me. “Are you sure you’re hung-over? Could be something else.” Her eyes darted between me and Vilkas, a sly grin on her face.

            “Spare me, Aela.” I said, knowing exactly what she was implying. “For you, I leave my bow. It’s old and probably needs replacing, but I leave it to you anyway. I also leave to you my plants, which are currently thriving.”

            “You’re not dying, Kara.” Vilkas grumbled behind me.

            Aela snickered, kneeling beside me. She placed the cup in my hand. “Drink this. It will help.”

            I sniffed it, dropping my jaw at the offensive scent. “Gods, Aela. What _is_ this?”

            She smiled. “It’s my concoction. How do you think Farkas and I can drink ourselves silly and still do our jobs in the morning?”

            “I just assumed you had other-worldly abilities.” I said, staring into the cup. “What’s in it?”

            Aela sighed. “If I tell you, you won’t drink it. I _will_ warn you that there is a copious amount of cinnamon in there, so be ready for that.”

            I shook my head as I began to drink the substance. It was thick and gooey, but somehow still a drinkable consistency. There was definitely a raw egg in it, identifiable by the slimy yolk sliding over my tongue, and I fought not to gag as I finished the entire glass.

            I shivered as I swallowed the last of the mess, coughing around the cinnamon in the back of my throat. I handed Aela the glass, feeling my stomach twist and turn as my body rejected the new substances. “Aela, I don’t think I can keep it down.”

            “Give it a second to work, Lissa.” Aela said, rolling her eyes. I waited, and after a moment, my entire body settled. My stomach stopped flopping around, the pounding in my head silenced, and my face stopped tingling.

            “By the gods, Aela. You’re incredible.” I said, sitting up straight. “Where did you learn to make that?”

            She smiled softly. “Skjor’s recipe.” She set the glass on the table, taking Farkas’ hand and guiding him away from my office. “Light some candles in here. It stinks.”

            I laughed to myself, then I called after her. “Thank you!”

            She mumbled something unintelligible to me, but completely audible to Farkas. He laughed as she shut her door again, leaving me and Vilkas alone in my office.

            I stood, picking up my bucket and staring down at my clothes. “I’ll have to change.” I said, gesturing toward my vomit-covered sweater.

            Vilkas nodded. “You need a bath, too. And a toothbrush.”

            I definitely agreed. “Well, we’ll just have to run back home.” I grabbed the papers I needed off of my desk, tucking them under my arm. “Do we have time?”

            “It’s still early.” Vilkas said, putting his arm around my shoulders. He reconsidered after a moment, pulling his arm away from me and my puke-sweater. “Ah, I’ll be your husband again after you’re clean.”

            I laughed. “Sounds fine to me.”

 

            The wind whistled through the trees, shaking the branches above us and causing leaves to fall. It was late autumn in Skyrim, and the giant trees that lined the path to my brother’s house were adorned with leaves in brilliant shades of reds and yellows and oranges. The day was still young, not even mid-morning yet, and the birds sang from the trees. In fields farther off, crows cried to each other, the sound echoing through the open air.

            I looked up at Vilkas, who actually looked especially handsome that morning. He was wearing a dark, navy sweater since all of his black ones were dirty. The deep blue made his eyes especially striking, a soft gray in contrast to the rest of his dark complexion. He’d even washed his hair, and it was combed back away from his face, exposing a sharp jaw line.

            Distracted by my husband’s face, I caught my foot on a loose pathway stone and stumbled forward. Vilkas grabbed my elbow, catching me before I busted my face as he frequently did. I grumbled to myself as he laughed, shaking his head.

            “We’re going to have to put a helmet on you.” he said, steadying me. “You’re a walking accident, and one of these days, I won’t be around to catch you.”

            I smirked. “I wouldn’t subject an innocent helmet to the level of danger I come with.”

            Vilkas laughed again, rather loudly, and I couldn’t stop my own laugh. I loved the sound of Vilkas’ laugh, just because he very rarely used it. It was booming and genuine, and sort of obnoxious, but it was so perfect.

            He snaked his hand down my forearm to entwine his fingers in mine. He inhaled deeply, sighing as he looked up at the trees. “I always forget how beautiful it is out here.”

            “You were just here last night.” I said, wrapping my other hand around his upper arm and leaning my head against him as we walked. “How was your party, by the way?”

            Vilkas shrugged. “It wasn’t a party, honestly. We assembled some furniture for Catriona’s room and then we had a few drinks.” He tapped my nose. “ _You_ are the one who was at a party.”

            “It wasn’t even close to party.” I said, rolling my eyes. “I went to the Bannered Mare and shared a few drinks with my new friend.”

            Vilkas looked at me skeptically. “New friend, huh? From a bar?”

            “Oh, yeah. An edgy, fun friend from Dawnstar. And her name is Arabella.”

            Vilkas furrowed his brow. “Sounds familiar.”

            I shook my head. “You’d remember her if you knew her. Dark makeup, lip piercing, very dark humor. And she’s tiny. I could probably put her in my pocket.”

            He shrugged. “I’m surprised you remember anything from last night, as drunk as you were.”

            I laughed quietly, giving him a playful nudge. “Well, I’m never drinking again, so that won’t be an issue. You’d like her, though.”

            “Well, if she’s a real person, you’ll have to introduce me.” Vilkas said, and at my curious glance, he explained. “You get loopy when you’re drunk. How can I know if there’s actually a friend from the bar, or if you were just talking to a wall?”

            I shoved him playfully, earning another loud laugh. “I was not talking to wall, Vilkas. She’s coming back on Turdas to visit again. If you’re nice, maybe I’ll introduce you.”

            Vilkas smiled as my brother’s house became visible around the path. He pulled me close to him again. “Sounds good to me, pup.” We approached the front door when I noticed Cassius up in the stables, feeding his horses. We turned toward him, trekking the small climb across from his house to the enclosed stalls for his two horses.

            “Hi, brother.” I said, putting my hand on his back. He turned toward me, giving me a quick squeeze.

            “Hey, Karl.” he said simply, releasing me to also pat Vilkas on the back. I walked around him to the dark, brown horse in the other stall. He was freshly groomed, his coat having a nice shine to it, and I could feel that he was so genuinely happy to be acknowledged.

            I pet the horse’s nose, pulling an apple from my pack to feed him. “Hi, Maven.” I said to him, feeding him the apple and scratching his mane. “How is he doing up here, Cass?” Maven had been my horse when I lived in Riften, but once I’d joined to Companions, I rarely had time to take care of him the way I should have. Cass took him and made him at home in his stables once they were built, something Vilkas had suggested on our trip around Skyrim.

            “He’s doing great, actually. Lydia takes care of him, and she’s definitely claimed him as her horse.” As he spoke, I stepped around the stables to join Vilkas again. “So Lyd gets nice, old Maven, and I’m stuck with Dinkle.” He gestured to the speckled, gray horse before him, who had a funny look in his eyes.

            Vilkas snorted. “Why would you name him Dinkle?”

            “Because he’s a dinkle!” Cass said, shaking his head and placing his hands on his hips. “I think he’s deaf, or he’s just an asshole. He doesn’t do anything I tell him to do.”

            “Perhaps you’re just bad with horses.” Vilkas suggested, earning a hateful glare from Cass.

            “No, that’s not it.” I said. “Cass used to break horses in the Rift. He could tame any horse that anyone brought him.”

            “Exactly. This one is just a dinkle.” Cass said, turning back to the house. “Come on. Let’s head inside.”

            We followed my brother back to his home, walking up the steps to the front door and filing in behind him. In the large, main room, Lydia was sitting with Catriona on her lap, reading some sheet of paper with unintelligible scribble on it. She looked up as we entered, a smile on her face as she saw me and Vilkas.

            “Hi, you two.” she said, and Vilkas and I replied with quiet greetings of our own. Vilkas immediately went for the baby, scooping Cat up and carrying her to the other side of the table, where he sat with her and bounced her around.

            Lydia smiled as she watched Vilkas play with the baby, turning to me as I pulled out the chair beside her and sat. “Still no Ulfric yet, huh?” I asked, giving Lydia a side-hug.

            “Not yet.” she replied, readjusting the white, wool sweater she wore. Her hair was down again, as it used to be. Since she’d had Catriona, Lydia didn’t waste time doing her hair, so it was surprising to see her so much like her old self. She’d even added a single braid to her hair, framing the left side of her face. “It’s still early, of course. He could come at any time.”

            “If he comes at all.” Cassius said from the kitchen, speaking around a mouthful of food. “He made it very obvious the last time we spoke to him that he never would have told us if Galmar hadn’t written.”

            “He’ll come.” Lydia reassured him, folding her arms across her chest. “You should appreciate the fact that he was honest with you, Cass. Not everyone would have been.”

            Cassius sighed, returning to the room from the kitchen. He had an entire wedge of cheese in his hand, taking bites as he spoke. “I know that.” he grumbled, leaning against the staircase beside Vilkas. “But we don’t know if he’ll actually come. Maybe he’s not ready.”

            “He’s ready.” Lydia said. “He’ll be here. Just give him time.”

 

 

            Hours passed at an incredibly slow rate. We filled most of the morning with talk about what to say to Ulfric, but as the morning stretched into afternoon, and then afternoon to early evening, we were beginning to lose hope.

            Vilkas sat near the fire, a sleeping Catriona resting in his arms. He loved that baby, and all babies in general, and he was close to nodding off himself. Cassius was completely disheartened, convinced that Ulfric really wasn’t coming, but he and Lydia were collectively preparing a small supper for all of us.

            “You’ve gotten better at cooking.” I noted to Lydia from where I stood in the door frame. She smiled at me, laughing softly.

            “I haven’t, actually. Cassius does most of the work.” she said, cutting up potatoes to add to the stew Cassius was stirring.

            Cass laughed. “But you’re a great help, baby. The best help.”

            I smiled at my brother, who was so genuinely unenthused, but could so easily cover it up with the love he had for his wife. I sighed, standing up straight again. “I’m going out for a walk. I can’t stay in here anymore.”

            “Don’t wander too far out, Karl.” Cass noted. “There’s a pack of wolves living down the hill that I haven’t dealt with yet.”

            “Wolves don’t scare her, Cass.” Lydia said, her eyebrow raised in sarcastic humor.

            “Hardy har har.” I said, turning away from them and walking to Vilkas. He was half asleep in the chair, cuddling Cat against his chest. I leaned over the back of the chair, kissing his cheek. He mumbled something that I couldn’t quite make out, so I turned away from him and strode from the room, closing the front door quietly behind me.

            Outside, the sun was setting over the lake. The sky was painted with strokes of orange and pink, and I walked around the side of the house to get a better view of the water. Standing on the water’s edge, I looked out at the clear liquid, so crystal it reflected the sky and shimmered with orange lights as it moved. I picked up a rock, tossing it into the lake and watching it skip along the surface once, twice, three times before it submerged.

            I picked up another flat stone, running my thumb over the surface before I reared my arm back to throw it into the lake again. Watching it skip against the rippling surface, I sighed, wondering if we’d actually wasted our time waiting out here for Ulfric.

            Part of me didn’t really care if he came or not. I’d lived so long without a father, twenty-three years, and it wasn’t absolutely dire for me to have one now. I’d done all of the important things in my life without knowing my father. And honestly, I didn’t need a father to know what a good father was, as Cassius had said once before. My brother was a good father. Vilkas would be a good father.

            But I knew in my heart that it would hurt if he didn’t show up. Over the past weeks, I had tried to rationalize a reason for never coming back home in my head. I came up with so many reason, some of which were so obscure they couldn’t be true, but to me, they were all sufficient excuses. If he didn’t show up that day, it would just confirm, to me and my brother, that we didn’t have a single parent that wanted us.

            I sighed again, tugging the sleeves of my soft, green sweater over my fists to keep my hands warm. I stared out at the mountain across the lake, so tall that I could hardly see the top in this light. Still, it was quiet, a large rock that was utterly silent. No howling could be heard, no movement, just the lapping of the waves as the edge of the lake greeted the base of the mountain.

            “It’s beautiful out here.” a deep voice said from behind me. I turned rather quickly, greeted by a large Nord wearing a heavy coat, showing that he was cold in the crisp air too. He offered me a half-smile, which quickly faded back to a grimace. He looked back out at the lake, his hands tucked into his pockets.

            “I always wanted to live in a place like this.” Ulfric said, shaking his head. “I love the feeling of seclusion, like there’s no one around to see you at your most vulnerable. The only living things that can hear you are the wildlife in the woods around you, but they leave you be because they have no interest in what you’re doing, just as you have no interest in them.”

            I cocked my head to the side, watching him as he spoke. “Why didn’t you live somewhere like this, then? You could, if you wanted.”

            He smiled at me, a kind smile that told me that I was completely wrong. “It’s too late for that now. I won’t be left alone for the rest of my life.”

            I understood, so I nodded. “Where’s Galmar?”

            “I didn’t invite him.” he said, scratching the beard around his mouth. “I didn’t want you all to think that I’m in constant need of his companionship. I can do things on my own.”

            “Awfully late for the High King of Skyrim to be travelling alone.” I said with a smirk. “Sort of dangerous, don’t you think?”

            Ulfric laughed, a deep and hearty sound that showed little emotion, yet all of his emotions at once. “I’ve been here for a while, actually.”

            I felt my brow furrow. “You haven’t made it inside yet.”

            “No, not yet.” he agreed, pursing his lips. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to explain the things I’ve done in a way that will make sense you and Cassius. I know the last time we spoke, I told you a lot of things that had nothing to do with you or your brother, and it probably confused you both.” He exhaled for a long time, turning away from the lake to look at me. “I’m nervous, if I have to be completely honest with you.”

            “You don’t have to be completely honest with me, but I appreciate it.” I told him, smiling with reassurance. “You don’t have to be nervous, either. The rest of them are nervous enough for the both of us.”

            Ulfric nodded. “And you’re not nervous?”

            I shook my head. “No. I don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

            “And why’s that?”

            “Because there’s nothing left to lose.” I said simply. “If this goes well, then we’ll have made a lot of progress toward something wonderful.”

            Ulfric raised an eyebrow. “And if it goes badly?”

            “Then we’ll try again another time.”

            He stared at me for a moment, this look on his face that made it evident that he longed for a family. He needed companionship, needed children just as much as we needed a father. Ulfric blinked once or twice before he looked away from me, then back at me again.

            “I like the way you think, Karalissa.” he said, a light in his eyes I hadn’t noticed before. He looked so hopeful, his expression reminding me exactly of my brother. It was in that moment that I realized that our brown eyes weren’t our mothers, but they were instead Ulfric’s.

            “Do you want to go inside, now? There’s honestly nothing to be worried about.”

            “Who’s in there?” Ulfric asked, straightening his coat. He spent a moment trying to make himself some kind of presentable.

            “Cass and Lydia and Vilkas. And Cat, but she’s asleep and she doesn’t speak yet, so I don’t think you have to be too concerned about her.”

            Ulfric nodded, a smile on his face as I spoke. “Alright. Let’s go in.”

            I tilted my head toward the home, turning on my heel. “Follow me.”


	9. A Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang spends the evening listening to what Ulfric has to say.
> 
> POV: Cassius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, lads and lassies.
> 
> Just wanted to forewarn all of you, this chapter and the few that follow provide a lot of bang-pow information. By that, I mean it all happens really quickly, but at this point, it shouldn't be too hard to connect all of the pieces and know exactly what's going on.
> 
> Hang on tight, spider monkeys. Here it comes.
> 
> PS thanks for reading!!!

            “Cass, how do I know if this is done?” Lydia asked me, holding up a piece of cooked beef.

            I laughed a little, shaking my head as I left the kitchen. “You just know, Lyd. Add it to the stew.”

            “If you say so.” she mumbled, cutting up the meat and adding it to the pot. I left her in the kitchen to approach Vilkas, who had nodded off with my daughter in his arms. The man was baby-crazy, and the two of them had fallen asleep next to the fire, a blanket draped loosely over Vilkas’ chest to keep her warm.

            I nudged him a little to wake him, carefully removing Cat from his grasp. He sat up, staring at me in confusion, then rubbing his face. “Sorry, Cass. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

            “No worries, brother.” I assured him, cradling Cat in my arms. “We have guest bed upstairs, you know. You don’t have to sleep in a chair.”

            “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Kara?”

            “She stepped out.” I explained. “You know how she gets.” Vilkas nodded, standing from his chair and folding the blanket he’d been using. I cleared my throat, checking the front door to make sure she wasn’t about to walk in. “Has she been any better?”

            Vilkas sighed, rubbing his forehead. “No. She was out last night with some strange woman. Drank herself sick, and she vomited all morning after she woke.”

            “It’s not like her.” I noted, shaking my head. “She never drinks like that.”

            “I know.” he said, his lips pressed together to express his concern. “I’m hoping this will help.”

            “If it happens at all.” I said with a sigh. “Should someone go after Karl? It’s getting dark.”

            “She’s a grown woman, Cassius.” Lydia called from the kitchen.

            “Yeah, a grown woman who’s a magnet for accidents.” I responded, rolling my eyes. “If she’s not back in ten minutes, I’ll go looking for her.”

            “Kara just gets bored.” Vilkas said, pouring himself a mug of mead. “She’ll be back.” Then door creaked open then, and Vilkas nodded toward the door. “See?”

            We looked toward the front door frame, where Karalissa creeped in, holding the door open for Ulfric, who followed behind her. My heart dropped at the sight, not in discouragement, but because his showing up meant he really wanted to talk to us.

            As they entered the main room, Karalissa smiled at me, patting my back. “Look who I found sulking around outside.”

            I extended my free hand, the other supporting Cat. “Glad you could make it, my King.”

            He shook my hand, a familiar smile on his face. He seemed tense, but it was probably just nerves. It was almost funny to see the High King so worked up. “For the last time, please call me Ulfric.” He looked down at my daughter, his eyes twinkling at the beautiful, sleeping Nord. “This is your child?”

            “Yes. This is Catriona.” I said, leaning forward a little so he could see her perfect little face. “We just call her Cat.”

            Ulfric smiled down her, showing white teeth as he grinned. “She looks like a Felstead.” he noted, straightening his back and turning to Vilkas. Ulfric extended a hand to him, shaking it firmly. “Pleased to see you, Vilkas. I’m sorry to have heard you were injured in the war.” He looked over Vilkas’ scarred face, which was distracting the first few times you looked at it. Eventually, you forgot the scars were even there. “It saddens me to know good men lose so much on my behalf.”

            Vilkas shrugged, a grimace on his face as always. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t continue. It’s good to see you too, Ulfric.”

            We all stood in awkward silence for a moment or two, staring around the room at each other and trying to figure out what we were supposed to do next. I glanced at Karalissa, who was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet in anticipation.

            Lydia broke the silence, carrying bowls of stew and setting them on the table. “Do you like stew, Ulfric?”

            The High King cleared his throat. “Um, yes. Thank you.”

            Lydia nodded. “Well, don’t just stand around, all of you. Sit down. Eat.”

            Following Lydia’s command, we all took a seat at the table. Lydia and I sat on the side nearest to the kitchen, while Karalissa sat in between Ulfric and Vilkas on the other side. She immediately began stress eating, taking a huge bite of stew and chewing it slowly. Lydia pushed a bowl toward me, and I shook my head, silently telling her I would wait until she finished so I could hold Cat.

            We all sat quietly for a long time, eating our stew and looking up at each other every once in a while. I kept stealing glances at Ulfric, who continuously glanced up at me, and we both looked away when we would make eye contact.

            After about ten minutes, Lydia sighed, leaning against her closed fist on the table. “So, Ulfric. Did you have any difficulty finding our home?”

            He shook his head, a kind smile on his face. “It wasn’t too difficult. It’s beautiful out here, by the way.”

            “Thank you.” Lydia said. “Cassius built it himself.”

            “You’re joking.” Ulfric said, turning his gaze to me. “You built an entire house?”

            “Oh, yeah.” Karalissa answered for me. “He was mad at me, so he focused his aggression toward building this mansion.”

            “Impressive.” Ulfric said, something mischievous twinkling in his eyes.

            “Can we skip the small talk?” I asked, not trying to be rude, but Lydia jabbed me in the side anyway. “Sorry, I just…I have a lot of questions and I’m sure Ulfric does too. And it’s getting late.”

            Ulfric nodded, sighing to himself. “I apologize for my timing. As I was explaining to Karalissa outside, I’ve actually been here for a little while. I was trying to decide how to make the things I’ve done easier for you to understand, without giving you my entire life story again.”

            “Well, we’re ready when you are.” I said, clutching my daughter against my chest.

            Ulfric took a deep breath, sliding his bowl away from him slightly to fold his arms on the table top. He was quiet for a moment, and then he began to speak. “I was with your mother for almost seven years. I met her in the middle of the Great War, when we were stationed outside of Solitude. My entire platoon would wander into the city at night if we weren’t on watch, and we would get drinks at the tavern right inside the gate.

            “I don’t know if she ever told you anything about how we met, but that was it. I wasn’t in the mood to drink that night, and I’d taken to wandering the streets of Solitude, enjoying the night air. We crossed paths when I passed the market stalls, where she was closing up her stand and heading home. She was dropping all of these things from her bag, and when she would bend over to pick something up, she would drop something else. She was cursing to herself and it was so funny, I wandered up to her to help her carry her things back to her home.

            “I fell in love with her that night. We were never married, because I was always stationed in a different place, but I came back to visit her three or four times a month. She wrote to me often, and I honestly still have some of her letters in my home somewhere.” He looked up at me, shaking his head. “When she told me I would have a child, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my entire life. My father was a Jarl, so he just hired people to spend time with me. I never knew a father’s love, a father’s affection, and all I wanted was for you to know that you were loved.

            “I loved spending time with you, Cassius. I took you fishing and I taught you how to hunt, I gave you a little wooden sword because you said you wanted to be a soldier like me. You were a perfect blend of both Fjoli and me, right down to your mannerisms. And then, five years later, she tells me that we’ll have another child, and everything was perfect. It was exactly the life I wanted.

            “While Fjoli was still carrying Karalissa, that’s when I was taken by the Thalmor, during the campaign for the Imperial City. It was made very clear to me, after that month, that I couldn’t stay with you two. Once I was freed, I made my visits less frequent, worried that I would be followed by some sort of spy, because I’d been marked as an asset. They would never leave me alone, which meant you two and your mother would never be safe in my company.

            “And then, after Markarth, I stopped coming all together. I couldn’t bear the thought of one of you being taken, held for ransom or questioned for information you didn’t even have about me. It broke my heart to know that Karalissa was taken and interrogated about me, because of everyone here, she was the least involved in anything that ever had to do with me.

            “Fjoli and I agreed that this was for the best, and it was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do. She made up some story about where I was, and you two probably told most everyone that your father had died. It was a horrible thing to do to you both, but it was necessary, especially when the rebellion began.

            “I did come back, though.” he said, taking a breath. “I lost my strength to stay away and I travelled to Solitude to catch a glimpse of you all. I actually went to Proudspire Manor and knocked on the door, and when she answered, Fjoli looked so different. She was just as beautiful, but so fragile. She told me she’d married someone, and that I couldn’t see either of you.”

            Ulfric shook his head, looking between me and Karalissa. “Don’t be angry with her, that’s the only thing I ask. She was only looking out for both of you, by lying for so long. I’m the only one to blame. But I do want you both to know I have _always_ loved you two. No matter where I was, what I was doing, or who I was with, you two were always on my mind.”

            Things were quiet again after that. There were so many things I wanted to say, but I wasn’t sure why I wanted to say any of them. I wanted to tell him everything he’d missed, every ounce of anger wiped away from my thoughts as quickly as it had been introduced. Karalissa seemed satisfied with Ulfric’s story, too, and she offered me a half-smile.

            “I know it’s no excuse.” Ulfric said quietly. “Especially after all you’ve done for me, Cassius. I should have told you years ago, and I should have been the one to initiate the conversation, not Galmar.”

            “How long did Galmar know?” Karalissa asked, looking up at Ulfric.

            “I told him after the march for Solitude.” he explained. “I saw Fjoli in the crowd, and I couldn’t hide it from him anymore. Galmar has been my closest companion for more than half of my life, and it hurt him to know I’d been lying for so long. He didn’t contact you two to spite me, of course. He thought it was wrong for you not to know, and he was right. It _was_ wrong, and I’m sorry for wronging you both for so long.”

            “There’s no need for apologies, Ulfric.” Karalissa said. “There’s a reason everything happens, and we’re glad that you’re here now.”

            “It’s the truth.” I added. “All we ever wanted was the truth.”

            “And you have it, and I’ll always provide it from now on.” Ulfric said. “Nothing has to change, but know that you two are the most important people in the world to me, and I would do anything for either of you.”

            Karalissa and I both laughed, earning questioning looks from everyone else in the room. “Sorry.” I began, shaking my head. “I don’t think any of us have ever heard that from a parent. It’s just shocking.”

            Cat stirred in my arms, staring up at me with brilliant, blue eyes. I watched her for a moment, and as she smiled up at me, I felt my eyes begin to water. “I understand it, Ulfric. All of it. I would do anything to protect this little one, and if that meant leaving her alone entirely, I would do it.” I shook my head again, looking up at Ulfric with a sly smile. “How does it feel to be a grandfather?”

            Ulfric laughed. “Don’t say that. I know I’m old, but I didn’t think I was _that_ old.” We all laughed heartily at his response before he continued. “I would like to know more about your childhood, the things I missed.”

            I nodded, in sync with Karalissa’s reply. “Of course, Ulfric. Ask anything.”

            “Sure.” I agreed, taking a blanket as Vilkas offered it to me, wrapping Cat in the warm wool to rock her back to sleep.

            “You two attended the…Bard’s College?”

            Karalissa rolled her eyes. “Yes. Viarmo enrolled us. It was disgusting.”

            “An interesting adjective.” Ulfric said, raising his eyebrows. “Why did you two attend the Bard’s College, exactly?”

            I cleared my throat again, watching Cat’s face to keep myself level headed. “We stayed there because Viarmo and Ma travelled for a while after they married.”

            “She left you two alone?”

            Karalissa snickered. “A terrible idea, really. We were such bad children.”

            “Yeah.” I said, laughing to myself. “We always misbehaved. I actually was expelled for a period of time.”

            “That was my fault, though.” Karalissa noted. “Cassius beat the hell out of a boy that liked me.”

            “He was too handsy.” I said simply. “I got physical with several of the boys who were sweet on Karl. They just annoyed both of us; she never liked any of them, and they were always following us around, and I just lost my temper once or twice.”

            Ulfric smiled at that, deep laughter forming within his chest. “Don’t tell me you also fought Vilkas.”

            “Oh, no.” I said, giving Vilkas a wink. “Vilkas could easily kill me. I wouldn’t mess with him.” I shrugged, continuing with the explanation. “After they came home, Viarmo would re-enroll us every once in a while. Just to keep us out of the house.”

            “Why, though?” Ulfric asked, then he reconsidered. “You don’t have to answer that, if you’d prefer not to.”

            “You gave us honesty.” Karalissa noted. “We’ll do the same.” I nodded, agreeing with her. “Viarmo never liked us. He pretended to for a while, but he stopped trying to cover it up after they were married.”

            “I don’t understand how he couldn’t like you two.” Ulfric said, shaking his head. “You’re both bright, you have a decent sense of humor, and even if you didn’t behave as well as you should have—”

            “Viarmo wasn’t like that.” Karalissa explained. “We had no redeeming qualities to him, and we didn’t tolerate his nonsense. We called him out for doing things he shouldn’t have in the beginning, and I suppose we should have just minded our own business.”

            “Ma was our business.” I countered.

            “No, she wasn’t. Not after she stopped making us _her_ business.”

            I stared at my sister like she was crazy, forgetting that there were even other people in the room. “How can you say that, Karalissa? Ma wasn’t well. She didn’t know what she was thinking.”

            “She made her choice, Cassius.” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “I won’t forgive that she made her choice, and she didn’t choose us.”

            “What’s changed, Karl? I don’t understand why you’re doing this to yourself.” I said, feeling the volume of my voice rise. “How can you blame Ma for any of that? The things Viarmo did were not her fault.”

            “Yes, they were, brother.” she said to me, shaking her head. “How can _you_ not see that she _chose_ to keep him around? She let him send us away. She let us leave.”

            “She told us that she only let us leave to protect us!”

            “It was a lie, Cassius! An excuse! If she wanted to protect us, she would have long before then. She _chose_ to let him—”

            “Stop it, Karalissa! She wasn’t well. That doesn’t mean you can blame her for—”

            Lydia put her hand on my shoulder. “Cass, let me have the baby.”

            I blinked, smoke trailing from between my lips as I became increasingly angry with Karalissa. I looked down at Cat, who was sleeping soundly through the argument, but I felt my own face crumple as I turned toward my wife.

            “I’m sorry, Lyd.” I mumbled, handing Catriona off to her.

            “No, no. Don’t apologize.” she said, kissing the side of my forehead as she stood. “I’m just going to put her in the basinet. It’s a little quieter in there.”

            I watched her carry our daughter away from me, shutting the door to our bedroom behind her. I turned back to Karalissa, who was staring at me, waiting for me to understand, as she so often did. Lydia reemerged moments later, patting Vilkas on the back as she passed him.

            Karalissa pursed her lips, still staring at me. “You say your piece, then I’ll say mine.”

            I sighed, glancing at Ulfric, who was listening intently. “Ma wasn’t well. She made poor decisions because Viarmo manipulated her. He convinced her that she needed him to survive, and I can’t bring myself to blame her for that. I’m sure that everyone in this room is well-aware that Viarmo beat her, and I think she lost her sanity, the part of her mind that made rational decisions. She didn’t know what she was agreeing to. She was…blinded by the love she had for him.”

            “Well, I’m sorry, Cass, but I just don’t see it that way.” my sister explained, her eyes welling up with tears. “I know what love is, and people who are in love don’t try to hurt each other. She should have loved us more than him, because all he did was hurt us, and she just let him. She sat and listened when he called us ‘worthless’ and ‘pig-headed’, she signed all of the papers to enroll us in the college, she went through the fliers and agreed to send you off to the Legion, and she turned her back when Viarmo hit me.

            “I love Ma, Cass, just as much as you do, but that doesn’t mean I understand anything she chose, because she chose _him_.”

            I watched my sister, in so much pain as she talked about our youth, and I felt overcome with the need to comfort her. It was something I’d honestly never experienced before, my method of consolation never stemming far from just changing the subject. It had been far too long, though, and as I thought about what Vilkas had told me the night before, about how Karalissa had been trying to drink her sorrow away, I immediately blamed myself.

            “Don’t do that.” she said, rolling her eyes. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, exhaling harshly as she grew irritated with herself for getting overwhelmed.

            “Do what?” I asked, though I already suspected what she meant.

            “Don’t blame yourself. You always do, and that’s why I never say anything about it.” Karalissa explained, taking the handkerchief that Vilkas had handed her to wipe her face. “There’s nothing to be done about it now, and I don’t want to change any of it. I’m just angry that it happened, and I don’t like being angry.”

            “I know.” I said, tapping my sister’s hand with my index finger, the most endearing I could possibly be toward her. “Everything you’ve said is true. I did say she was blinded by the love she had for him, and I stand by that, but it doesn’t mean he ever loved her.”

            “You’re right.” she concluded, leaning against Vilkas’ shoulder. She glanced at Ulfric, who was sitting as awkwardly as Lydia and Vilkas were. “I apologize, Ulfric. I didn’t mean to—”

            “Never apologize for what you feel.” he said solemnly. “Your thoughts and feelings are the only things you will ever truly own. The world will take a lot of things from you, but it can never take what is in your heart.”

            Karalissa nodded, looking up at Vilkas for a moment. “I like that. Who taught you that?” she asked, turning back to Ulfric.

            He laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head. “Galmar.”

            My sister smiled, placing her hand on Ulfric’s shoulder. “Well, Galmar is a good man, too. I like him.”

            “I do, too.” Ulfric concluded, then he looked around at the rest of us and cleared his throat. “What about you and Lydia, Cassius? How did you two discover you were actually in love?”

            Lydia laughed beside me, resting her head against my shoulder. “It’s a funny story, actually, because I honestly couldn’t stand him at first.”

            “You start it off, Lyd. You tell the beginning better than I do.” I said, wrapping my arm around her.

            She smiled at me, sitting up again. “I was a mercenary before I joined the Whiterun guard, and I only joined because I hated having to follow some idiot around and do their dirty work. So you can imagine my disappointment when Jarl Balgruuf appointed me to be the Dragonborn’s housecarl.” The three across from us laughed quietly, listening to Lydia’s words with unbreakable attentiveness. “He dragged me all over Skyrim to run little jobs for literally everyone he met. He never said ‘no’ to anyone, and it was so annoying. And he talked about himself constantly, all of the battles he’d won or the trouble he’d caused. What bothered me most, though, was the way he talked about this young girl he’d known. He talked about her like she was an angel, this godly woman who he’d loved more than anyone he’d ever known, and I don’t know, he just irritated me.

            “After several months of just blindly following orders listening to all of his stories, no matter how many times he repeated them, I finally put my foot down and told him he was being annoying. We got into this huge argument, and we called each other some nasty names, and we both went our separate ways for a few hours. I came back to Breezehome, though, and he was piss-drunk. He was just sobbing, apologizing for being so pompous and telling me that he didn’t want to be, and it was mostly an act for the Dragonborn persona. He explained that the woman he always talked about, who I thought was some long-lost lover, was actually Karalissa, and he told me all about how they’d been separated and that he couldn’t find her.

            “We spent the whole night just talking about our lives. I told him about my family, the life I’d packed up and ran from, and he told me about his family, a sister and a mother who he loved dearly, but couldn’t go back to for one reason or another. I’d never seen a man cry so much in my entire life.”

            “Easy, Lyd.” I said, nudging her playfully. “I didn’t cry that much.”

            “Of course not, Cass.” she assured, rolling her eyes to ensure that they knew I actually did sob like a baby. “After that, we were really good friends. We had a lot of fun together, doing his Dragonborn work and I got to meet the Greybeards and the Blades. It was actually rather blissful for a while.” She tapped my hand, signaling for me to take over.

            “I don’t know about her, but I was absolutely in love with the woman at that point.” I said, earning an ‘aww’ from my sister, which I rolled my eyes at. “I wanted to bring her everywhere, show her everything, spend absolutely every moment with her. I’d liked girls before, of course, but it was never like this. It was never this easy.

            “Anyway, the time came for me to go to Skuldofn to fight Alduin, and I left Lydia and rode off on another dragon into the night. I remember, very vividly, that she’d woken after I left and found the note I’d left her, and ran up to Dragonsreach, and I caught a glimpse of her face as I flew away.

            “I went to Skuldofn, and then Sovngarde, and I spent three days’ time in what felt like hours fighting with soldiers of the past to defeat the World Eater. She was all I could think about the whole time, though, and when Tsun sent me back to Nirn, and I landed in a field outside of Winterhold, I had run straight back to Whiterun. I will never forget, when I stumbled through the door, all covered in soot and I probably smelled disgusting, she was sitting on the stairs with my note in her hand, and as soon as we saw each other, that was it.” I smiled at my wife, then I turned back to the group with a mischievous smile. “I do remember, though, she said one thing that was very interesting before she pounced me.”

            “I did not pounce you, Cass.” Lydia said, her face flushing with embarrassment.

            “Whatever you say, baby. Tell them the thing you said.”

            Lydia rolled her eyes. “I was convinced he was dead. It had been so long, and I had thought he would be back by then. So when he threw open the door and loomed in the frame all covered in blood and soot, I said, ‘Please tell me you’re not a ghost.’”

            Karalissa and Vilkas produced some hearty laughter, genuinely enthused by that. Ulfric smiled too, more interested in the story rather than the humor. After a moment, Karalissa looked up at me. “What did your note say, brother? The one you left for her.”

            “Karl, if I show you the letter, you’ll never leave me alone.”

            Lydia smirked at that, and reached into her pocket to produce the note. I hadn’t realized she always carried it with her, and I felt my heart swell. She slid the note toward Karalissa, who opened it and held it out for Ulfric and Vilkas to read, too.

            “I’m sorry, Lyd. I have to go.” Vilkas read out loud. “I love you.” He looked back up at me. “Why would you get picked on for that?”

            Karalissa pointed at the note. “He spelled ‘to’ incorrectly. T-o-o instead of t-o. It’s kind of funny. Of course he would mess that up.”

            “Shut up.” I said, holding Lydia against me as she took the note back from Karalissa, tucking it safely back into her pocket.

            “What about you and Vilkas?” Ulfric asked my sister. “Do you two have a story?”

            “Everyone has a story.” Karalissa noted, smiling up at Vilkas. “Ours isn’t quite as romantic as theirs, but it’s a good story.”

            Vilkas nodded, beaming at Karalissa. “I loved this quirky, clumsy Nord from the moment I met her. She was kind to everyone she met, she was best friends with my brother, and she was a fierce warrior. She still is all of those things, today. We were just good friends for a long time, but something shifted somewhere along the way. It just became easier to discreetly acknowledge that we loved each other.”

            “We went to Solitude to visit Ma, and we were sitting on this ledge above Castle Dour when we finally told each other that we were in love.” Karl continued. “It was just a spur-of-the-moment confession, and I’d known for a long time that I was in love with him, but neither of us had told the other, and it had been far too long. So, we looked into each other’s eyes, and the wind was blowing through our hair and the sun setting in the distance, framing our silhouettes against the walls of the castle, and I began to cry as Vilkas whispered something so sweet into my ear.” She nudged Vilkas, batting her eyelashes. “Tell them what you said, Villy.”

            Vilkas put his hand over his heart, leaning toward us with a teasing look in his eyes as he mocked being love-struck. “So overcome with emotion, I leaned down to Kara and I said, ‘Please tell me you’re not a ghost.’”

            Karalissa and Vilkas erupted into ear-splitting gales of laughter, slamming their fists on the table and clutching each other for support as they absolutely lost their minds. I glared at them for a moment, highly irritated for all of twenty seconds before I realized it was actually pretty funny. Lydia laughed too, and Ulfric shook his head to me, silently agreeing that they were definitely insane.

            “They’re mad.” Ulfric mumbled, watching as they tried to collect themselves. “If this is how they are sober, I’m afraid to see them drunk.”

            “They’re great company.” I said gruffly, rolling my eyes.

            “I’m sorry, brother.” Karalissa said, wiping her eyes. “We had an opportunity and we weren’t about to pass that up.”

            “You two are so alike, it makes me sick.” I said to her, kicking Vilkas under the table. I turned back to Ulfric. “So you haven’t missed _too_ much. Just several years with my annoying sister and her gothlord husband.”

            Ulfric smiled, shaking his head as he looked around at all of us. “I hope I won’t miss much more.”

            Karalissa smiled at me, putting her hand on Ulfric’s shoulder. I grinned too, nodding to Ulfric as I reassured him. “You won’t.”


	10. A Choker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Brotherhood does a little training exercise. Later, Arabella meets Karalissa at the Bannered Mare for more gossip.
> 
> POV: Arabella

            “Alright, listen closely, family!” Cicero shouted over the commotion of the training room. We all stared up at him from where he stood on the table in the corner, waiting for instructions. “The object of the game is simple: do not get killed, and do not kill your brothers and sisters.”

            “That’s very loose, Keeper.” I stated, folding my arms. “Give them more information than that.”

            Cicero rolled his eyes, but he obliged. “This is a training activity, but it will be fun. We’ll divide into two teams of three, and the goal is to take the choker from around the neck of your opponent. This choker represents your life, and only you can chose to give it away. We’ll be physically fighting our opposing teams, using daggers and fists and wit as weapons, and if you’re in the position where you believe your opponent could take your life, you must hand over the choker.

            “Now, the teams are as follows: Thomas, Mareena, and I make up the red team, and Nazir, Nikulas, and the Listener are the black team. Dala-grog is refereeing to ensure that no one is playing too roughly or cheating, and Babette is on stand-by in case her potions are needed.” Babette gave me a cute little wave when I turned toward her. “As leader of the sanctuary, the Listener will decide what is fair game.”

            I spent a moment humming in thought. “All is fair game. Daggers are allowed, but not preferred. The point of this exercise is to be physically dominating, not slicing your enemy to shreds. I don’t want anyone dying, though, so don’t do that.”

            Cicero laughed loudly, bouncing up and down in excitement. “Yes! Yes! Everyone to opposite sides of the room. Let’s begin.”

            We all dispersed, moving to our assigned sides of the room. I was honestly pretty excited to play this game, only because it had been so long since we’d done something this fun. Nikulas looked so determined, eyeing the large Thomas with an eager gaze. I nudged Nazir, who looked so out of place in shrouded armor.

            “Think we’ll be able to keep up with the young ones?” I asked, tightening the short braid of hair behind my head. I felt rather comfortable in my armor, my boots worn to the proper shape around my feet.

            Nazir laughed, his deep voice echoing off of the walls around us. “I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”

            We placed our hands against the wall, leaning toward the center of the room at a lunge, ready to spring into the fight. I looked at Cicero as we waited for Dala-grog to signal for us to begin, an evil smile stretched across his face as he stared back at me.

            “Go!” Dala-grog shouted, and we all hopped away from the wall and into the fight. Instinctually, I hung around the outskirts of the actual fight, waiting for an opportunity to take a choker.

            I watched as Nikulas ducked low, running straight on to collide with Thomas. The two wrestled against the ground, both battling for dominance but matching each other in strength. Mareena jumped in the tussle, hopping onto Nikulas’ back to overpower him, but Nikulas simply swung his arm back and tossed Mareena to the side. She rolled away from him and hit the wall with an audible thud.

            Cicero scooped the young Imperial off of the ground, for he also hung on the outside of the fight, as Nazir and I did. We let the young ones get tired before we actually did anything, which could be considered cheating, but Dala-grog didn’t say anything about it. Mareena offered Cicero a coy smile, her eyes conveying some sort of flirtatious message that peeked my curiosity.

            On the ground, Thomas had managed to get the upper-hand, knocking Nikulas on his back and using his dagger to threaten the flesh at his throat. Nikulas held his hands up, pretending to be defeated, and as Thomas eased back in thinking he’d won, Nikulas used his leg to flip Thomas onto his stomach. He crouched over the dark-haired Nord, taking a fistful of his hair to lift his head and place his blade against his throat.

            Thomas smirked, appreciating that he’d been bested and removing his choker to hand to Nikulas. As my teammate took the thin, red ribbon, Cicero swooped in and took Nikulas down by the neck, holding his arm behind his back and forcing the newest recruit to hand over his choker as well.

            Nearly consecutively with Cicero’s ambush, Mareena decided to attack Nazir. She wasn’t very quiet about it though, and as she ran to him, Nazir ducked out of her way. She turned about fairly quickly though, engaging in a full-fledged fist fight with Nazir. They both did a decent job of blocking the other’s blows, but I noticed that Mareena continuously stole glances at Cicero, checking to see if he was watching her fight. Reminded of what Cicero had said a week before, I realized that she _did_ have some sort of crush on Cicero, and she wasn’t being very discreet about it.

            Honestly rather annoyed, I invited myself into their fight, swooping low and swinging my leg around to connect with her ankle, knocking Mareena off of her feet. She fell toward Nazir, who caught her in his burly arms and held a blade against her throat as he stood again. Though she was confined in Nazir’s grasp, she had an arm free, and she swung her dagger toward Nazir’s face.

            Acting quickly, I lifted my leg to kick the blade out of her hand. It flew away from her and clattered against the floor, and with Nazir’s blade against her throat, I added mine to the mix, resting the tip against her chest and raising my eyebrow. Mareena rolled her eyes, removing her choker and placing it in my hand.

            As he released Mareena, Nazir was unaware that Cicero was right behind him. The Keeper ran toward the wall behind him, using his momentum to jump off of the wall and propel himself toward Nazir. He landed on Nazir’s back, wrapping his arms and legs around the Speaker and pressing his dagger to Nazir’s chest.

            “Damnit!” Nazir shouted, shaking his head as he removed his choker and placed it in Cicero’s expectant hand. He lowered himself from Nazir’s back, smiling mischievously as we both realized we were the only two left.

            “How fair is ‘fair game’, sweet Listener?” he asked, his evil grin never faltering.

            I smirked, knowing that Cicero had planned it to end like this, and we stood across from each other, both staring the other down. I almost laughed, humored by the sight of Cicero wearing shrouded armor, his rare lack-of-hat exposing the shaved side of his head. He moved his arms back and forth, stretching out his back muscles and preparing to fight.

            “All is fair, dear Keeper.” I responded simply. “Do your worst.”

I readied myself as he raised his eyebrow and sought to complete his favorite trick. He spun around, throwing his dagger toward me by the tip, and he sprinted in my direction as the blade flipped through the air.

            I lifted my hand to use telekinesis as a means of defense, freezing the blade and sending it back in his direction. Cicero cackled wildly as he ducked, the blade flying past him and landing in the practice mannequin behind him. He collided with me, grabbing my legs and causing me to topple forward. I caught myself on the palms of my hands, rolling forward and somersaulting back onto my feet.

            Cicero hopped to his feet again, looking away from me for a moment and picking up a dagger from the ground near him. I turned to the practice mannequin behind me, extending my hand as I willed the dagger plunged into the chest to fly to my hand. I caught it by the handle, running to Cicero and kicking his leg from beneath him.

            He hit the ground, and I climbed over him to hold my blade against his throat. Cicero swung his fist toward my head, and as I ducked, I instinctually swiped at his upper arm, my blade severing his armored flesh.

            He grunted as I cut him, and I immediately felt horrible. He smiled though, the crazy man, and he laughed a breathy laugh as I looked down at him. “That was not very nice, Listener. I’ll remember you did that.”

            I smirked at the threat, waving my hand over his arm to heal it quickly. “You never said we were playing nice, my dear Cicero.”

            “Stop flirting and fight!” Babette yelled at us, reminding us that we were being watched.

            Following commands as always, Cicero shoved me away from him enough to raise his leg and kick me in the chest, sending me a few feet away from where I previously crouched over him. Rolling away and resting in the middle of our makeshift arena, I sprung to my feet again, utterly unaffected by the kick. Cicero stood across from me again, dropping his dagger with a coy smile. I dropped mine too, both of us lowering our stance for the beginning of another fight.

            We charged toward each other, and when the distance between us had closed, we began to swing at each other. Perfectly in sync, for every time he whipped his arm around, I could duck beneath him. Likewise, for every fist I rocketed toward his face, he deflected with his forearm, which he would then raise to swing at me again.

            Finally, he caught me around the waist, jerking me to the ground with him. He loomed over me, wrapping one hand gently around my throat. He held my right fist down with his other hand, his knee resting on top of my other arm, and he raised his eyebrow as he stared down at me. I realized that I had been bested, and just as I was about to praise him, his finger moved against my neck, reminding me of the last time we were in this situation.

            _Cicero had attacked Veezara, fled the sanctuary. I’d followed him, sent to end his life with Lucien Lachance. Cicero had held me against the ground, strangling me to death because the voice in his head told him to do it. I had returned to Falkreath, lied about Cicero’s death. Veezara had seen the bruises against my flesh._

            I blinked several times, trying to shake the images from my mind. Cicero must have noticed something change in my eyes, because he released his grip around my arms and stared down at me, waiting for me to react somehow.

            He grazed my chin with is index finger, laughing quietly. “You are one truly impressive woman, little Listener.” he mumbled. “That was the most exhilarating fight I’ve had in a while.”

            I exhaled loudly in muffled humor, exhausted from the fight and from the momentary flashback. I pulled the black choker from my neck, handing it to Cicero as I shook my head. “Exhilarating because you _won_ , no doubt.” I countered, smirking at the light that twinkled in his brown eyes.

            Cicero cackled as he hopped to his feet, extending his hand to help me off of the ground. Then, he turned to the group, holding all three black chokers over his head and dancing around. The room erupted into cheers as Dala-grog announced that we had a winner, and Cicero’s teammates rushed forward to congratulate him.

            Babette walked toward me, standing beside me as we watched the entire family bombard Cicero with questions: how did you do this move? Can you teach me how you did that?

            She shook her head, nudging me with her little elbow. “So the outcast of the Dark Brotherhood becomes everyone’s best friend.” she noted, looking up at me. “Funny, isn’t it?”

            I smiled at the little vampire, who had easily become _my_ best friend over the years. “Very funny, Babette.” I agreed, looking back at the Keeper, who beamed at everyone. He loved to be the center of attention, and he was perfectly content as he stole a glance at me. “Very funny, indeed.”

 

 

            “We drink to our youth, to the days come and gone, for the age of oppression is now nearly done.”

            I rolled my eyes slowly as Mikael sang, simply because he was annoying me that day. Since our little bet, he’d been all over the tavern-maid that worked at the Bannered Mare, and he was flaunting her in front of other men in the bar. It was utterly obnoxious, and it was taking all of my strength not to hurt him.

            I took another swig of my drink, turning to look at the door again. Though we hadn’t decided on an exact time, Karalissa and I had agreed to meet again on this day, and she hadn’t shown up yet. A little voice in my head screamed that she wasn’t coming at all, because I had been convinced she would already be here.

            I wasn’t exactly sure why it was bothering me so much. I kept trying to convince myself that it was because I was craving information on the Dragonborn, trying to connect the pieces that I couldn’t connect for myself. That wasn’t it, of course. The true reason I was so disheartened was because I’d had such a fun time the previous week, even if it was just for a brief amount of time. After years of darkness and grief, it was nice to have an utterly normal conversation with a stranger.

            “All hail to Ulfric! You are the High King! In your great honor, we drink and we sing.”

            I finished my drink, the same one I’d been working on for nearly an hour, as the front door to the Bannered Mare opened and Karalissa walked through the frame. She scanned the bar quickly, looking for me, but she found me at the small table near the stairs, on the other side of the fire in the center of the room. She seemed so relieved when she saw me, and she practically skipped toward me.

            “Thank gods you’re here.” she said, pulling a bow off of her shoulders and over her head, setting it against the wall beside the chair across from me. She dropped into the seat, smacking her open palms against the table as she shook her head.

            “I said I’d be here.” I assured, smiling a little at how exasperated she seemed.

            She rolled her eyes, making sound effects that reflected whatever she was feeling internally. “I know that, but my husband was convinced you weren’t real. He says when I’m drunk, I get all fuzzy and he thought I was talking to a wall. Believe it or not, I was beginning to worry myself.”

            I laughed at that, genuinely enthused. “Your husband doesn’t sound very nice.”

            “Oh he’s really nice deep down.” she promised me, raising her bushy eyebrows. “He just did something really nice a little while ago, which is actually why I’m so late.” She adjusted the straps of her leather armor as she spoke. “We were doing some work for Pelagius outside of the gates, who is a terrible person, by the way. He’s so full of himself and so ungrateful for—anyway, he keeps attracting giants to his farm. Something about his crops keep drawing them in, and he keeps begging us to help him.

            “So we get out there, my husband and his brother and another Companion, Codus, and the first thing Pelagius says is that we should have gotten there sooner! I mean, how dare you? We rushed down here to help you with your damned giant, and you’re saying that we didn’t rush fast enough? That’s so—”

            “So there’s a giant on his farm.” I continued for her.

            “Right.” Karalissa said, getting back to her story. “We take care of the giant easily enough, and I didn’t even ask for Pelagius to pay us for it, because I usually have to. Codus and I are a lot younger than most of the Companions, so we’re celebrating because we just killed a _giant_ , and Pelagius asks which of us is going to oversee the removal of the giant.

            “Well, we didn’t bring the giant there, so we’re never the ones to remove it. I’ve honestly been way too emotional, recently, and I was getting worked up because he was really making me angry. Long story short, my husband just spent the last two hours removing the giant from the farm because he’s just a nice man.”

            I sort of smirked. “Maybe he is nice, then.” The tavern-maid brought me another drink, and offered one to Karalissa too.

            “Oh no.” she said, shaking her head. The tavern-maid simply shrugged, walking away from us and back toward Mikael.

            “Not drinking this evening?” I asked. “And here I was so enthused by your drunken rambling.”

            Karalissa laughed, a sort of twinkly sound that was nearly contagious. “Not just this evening. I’m never drinking again, after last week. On Fridas, I was _so_ sick, sicker than I’ve ever been in my life. I was vomiting for _hours_.” She shook her head. “And then, my brother’s wife made this stew, and we all got food poisoning because the meat wasn’t cooked properly. My husband and I were both vomiting for two days straight, and then I was still sick every morning for the rest of this week. I should have known better, because she really can’t cook at all. The point is, I’m really tired of throwing up.”

            “So you’ve had a productive week.” I noted sarcastically. “How was your meeting with your father?”

            Karalissa sighed, most of the light enthusiasm she had being replaced with a seriousness I hadn’t seen from her yet. “It’s been a very emotional month.” she said simply. “It was a good night and a bad night. Have you ever felt that?”

            “I have.” I confirmed, nodding to her. “Why, though?”

            She pursed her lips. “Just because, well, it was nice to know that I do have a parent who actually cares for me and my brother. He’s a good man, our father, which was completely unexpected and confusing. It was hard to air out some of the things from the past, though. Answer my brother’s questions about my step-father.”

            “Was your step-father a not-so-wonderful addition to the family? I imagine most aren’t much in the way of affectionate.”

            She shrugged. “I imagine he’s still like that. I haven’t seen him in years.” Karalissa looked up at me, her face twisted somewhere between hurt and relief. “I’m just really tired of talking about him.”

            “I understand.” I said, nodding. “One of the best things about my Cicero is that he never wants to talk about family before…the group of wanderers we belong to. Unless we’re talking about my adoptive father, Balimund.”

            “Cicero is your edgy lover?” she asked, her eyebrow raised.

            I rolled my eyes, laughing to myself. “A title that doesn’t suit him at all, yet it’s entirely accurate. Yes, Cicero is my edgy lover.”

            “What’s he doing this evening?” she inquired, leaning on her palm. “He just lets you wander all the way down here from Dawnstar by yourself?”

            I sighed. “Actually, no. He’s here somewhere, too.” I explained, shaking my head. “He said he had no interest in talking to you, and he would find something else to occupy himself. I just hope he’s not getting into trouble.”

            Karalissa almost looked offended. “I’m very interesting.”

            I laughed. “I know that, and I tried to tell him. He’s not a fan of most everyone, though, so don’t take it personally.”

            “He likes you, though.” she said, her enthusiasm having returned. “We’ve talked so much about me. Tell me how you met Cicero.”

            I laughed again, louder this time. I’d never actually been asked that question, and it was too funny to me. “I met Cicero outside of Whiterun, actually. His wagon had broken down, and I fixed the wheel for him.”

            “So Cicero is your damsel in distress?” Karalissa asked, humor lacing her words.

            I sighed, relaxing in my chair. “He used to be. Recently, I’ve been the one who’s distressed.”

            “Why’s that?”

            I shrugged. “I lost my closest friend a few years ago, along with a great majority of our sanctuary. I struggled with some trouble of the head over the passing time between then and now, and Cicero has been nothing but good to me. He’s patient and understanding, and I owe him my life, honestly.”

            “So, you love him?” she asked, a smile on her face. “Because there’s a big difference between a lover and someone you love.”

            I nodded. “I love him, yes.”

            She clapped. “Yay! We should find him later this evening, and you can meet my husband and we can all be friends.” I laughed as she said it, but she continued. “Isn’t Balimund the blacksmith in Riften?”

            I furrowed my brow, sort of surprised that she had asked that. “Yes, he is. Do you know him?”

            She shook her head. “Nah, I don’t know him personally, but I know of him. He used to tune my bow for me.” She gestured to her bow beside her. “I lived in Riften for a year. A long time ago, though. Balimund adopted you?”

            “Yes, in a way. It was more like an arrangement, at first. He offered me food and shelter in exchange for work in the forge, but he became a father to me very quickly.”

            “What about your real father? He took you to an orphanage, right?” she asked, then she considered her words. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

            I shrugged. “I have no problem speaking about it. Actually, my mother took me to the orphanage. After my father left her, she said it was difficult to take care of me. I was young, and she lived in a communal shack, of sorts. I think about it sometimes, though, and I wonder if she gave me up because it was difficult to look at me. I look a lot like what I remember my father looking like.”

            “That’s horrible.” Karalissa said. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

            “It doesn’t matter anymore.” I said with a smile. “I have a family now, Cicero and friends who care about as much as I care for them. I have brothers somewhere, too. My father’s other children. I’ve never actually met them, though.”

            “That’s right.” she said, nodding. “You said your mother was a mistress. You were so young, though. How could you know what any of it meant?”

            “Oh, my mother never let me forget it.” I said, sighing to myself. “She told stories about how she’d whisked my father away from his wife and children simply because she was better than them. I was just a painful reminder to her that he’d picked someone else, or so she told me.”

            “Why would she say that to you?” Karalissa asked, genuinely appalled. “Let’s track her down and punch her in the face.”

            I laughed. “I honestly might take you up on that offer.”

            “So all you know about your father is from stories?”

            “Well, yes. He did live with us for a good five or six years, but he went back to his other family. That bothers me most, I think. I know why he didn’t chose my mother. She was a high-elf who shacked up with other men pretty frequently. But why didn’t he chose me? How could he consciously return to two other children when he had another child living in the fields?

            “It doesn’t matter now, of course.” I said, laughing to myself. “I have memories, and that’s enough for me. I would like to find my brothers, one day, but I can’t quite connect all of the pieces. I have one instance where I could have met them, or the men who I thought were them, but I don’t think they know I exist. Why would they?

            “I don’t want to scare them away. That’s my only concern, along with the idea that they didn’t know that their father was unfaithful. And what if they’re close with him, our father? I don’t want to ruin anything they may have.”

            Karalissa nodded, looking back at me sympathetically. “I’ll help you find them. And your mother, because I want to punch her in the face.”

            I laughed. “I appreciate it. If it helps any, I’d be glad to punch your step-father in the face.”

            She smiled. “My brother already did that once, so it’s okay.” She pulled a stack of papers from the pack on her back, most of it being what seemed to be paperwork. She flipped one sheet over, and began to write on the back. “Tell me all you know about your mother. She’s the one you know best, so we’ll start there.”

            I smiled, my heart swelling as this stranger took more interest in helping me than anyone else ever had. “Her name was Elle. She was a high-elf, and we lived in a fort outside of Riften. I don’t remember the name exactly. She told me when I was young that she met my father outside of Riften, closer to Whiterun hold, and she said Jergen was the star-crossed love of her life. They didn’t really know each other that well, I imagine, because—”

            “Arabella.” Karalissa interrupted, staring at me with her mouth agape as she stopped writing. “I’m sorry, did you say Jergen?”

            I narrowed my eyes, unsure of what conclusions she was drawing. “Yes, Jergen was my father’s name.”

            She shook her head, staring at me with wide eyes. “By the gods, I’m an idiot. Why didn’t I see it before? The brothers, the affair…my gods, the eyes.”

            “What are you getting at, Karalissa?” I was beginning to worry, and I racked my brain for places Cicero could be in this damnable city.

            Karalissa blinked a few times before she said anything. “You should come with me.” she said, standing from her chair and grabbing her bow. She turned toward the door, walking briskly from the inn.

            “Karalissa,” I called, standing from my own seat. “I won’t go anywhere until you explain this to me.”

            She turned around, quickly closing the distance between us as she bounced back toward me. Her expression was somewhere in between excitement and utter confusion. She looked down at me, towering over me as she explained. “I think I’m married to one of your brothers. His name is Vilkas, and his brother, Farkas, is my very best friend.” She eagerly waited for me to respond somehow. “Do those names mean anything to you?”

            I stared at her in awe, amazed that we had missed this much in translation. She was the one person closest to them, and I had been too busy worrying about her connection to the Dragonborn instead of my brothers. I couldn’t form any words to express what I felt, which was an array of anger and worry and utter bliss.

            Finally, I nodded, smiling at her. “Please, take me to them.”

            And with that, I followed Karalissa out of the Bannered Mare and out into the streets of Whiterun, my family somewhere beyond me and now within my reach.


	11. An Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arabella finally meets Farkas and Vilkas, and the three discuss Arabella's theory. Later, Karalissa and Codus have a meeting with a potential client, and Codus and Aela help Karalissa connect the dots, which is something she's bad at, apparently.
> 
> POV: Karalissa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo, lads and lassies.
> 
> Alrighty, so this chap is jam-packed. A lot of discoveries and realizations in this one, so stick with me. If you'd like a little insight to Arabella's childhood, see Whispers in the Dark Chapter 11. Also, for those who haven't read it (probably because I never finished it bc I got bored), Vilkas and Karalissa previously had a very long discussion about Jergen. That's located in the very beginning of Trouble in Skyrim, Chapter 1.
> 
> Okay, I do have to explain that I'm taking a little break from this fic until I wrap up another one. I've never been a good multi-tasker, and I HAVE TO FINISH THIS THIEVES GUILD FIC. It's necessary because I'm going to be delving into the story of another character, a Companion, to be specific, and this fic is relevant to them. I'll be posting that soon enough, possibly tonight. 
> 
> Okay, pals. Here's the fic.

            My mind was racing as I opened the door to the Bannered Mare, stepping out into the evening air that whirled around Whiterun. I bounded down the steps, headed toward my home with Arabella close behind me.

            I felt like an idiot. I’d failed to make connections, as I frequently did. I should have asked Arabella more about her family, or maybe I should have called Vilkas by his name when I talked about him. Anything to have sped this process along, to keep them from waiting any longer than they already had.

            From around the corner, a small Imperial man jogged up to us, coming down the steps from the Wind District. As he saw us, he seemed confused, closing the distance between us and reaching for Arabella’s arm.

            “I was just coming to get you.” the man said, his voice sort of shrill. He wore a maniacal smile, one that expressed that he was usually up to no good. “I found this contraption in Dragonsreach that appears to be used for catching things. I climbed up on the rafters and I think I figured out how to catch people with it. I thought we could catch some guards.”

            Arabella seemed appalled. “Cicero, you can’t just capture people.”

            I gasped, internally slapping myself for, again, not making connections. “You’re Cicero!”

            “And you’re too tall.” Cicero replied, his tone twinging on bitter as he stared up at me. He looked between me and Arabella, his red hair whipping back and forth along with him. “Arabella, where are we going?”

            “She was the missing link, dear Cicero. The piece I was forgetting.” Arabella beamed at both me and Cicero, which was apparently an expression that disturbed Cicero.

            “I’m pretty positive I’m married to her long-lost brother.” I explained, smiling down at the two of them. I thought for a millisecond, then I raised my brow in consideration. “This is going to freak Vilkas out.”

            “And we’re trusting a stranger?” he asked her, his voice lowering even though I was standing right there. “This doesn’t seem right. How can you know if she tells the truth?”

            “Oh.” Arabella said, her brow furrowing. “I, um… Are you telling the truth? How did you make that connection so suddenly?” she asked me.

            I shrugged. “Jergen was the name of Vilkas’ father, and he was a piece of trash. I want to punch him in the face, too.” I hopped up and down, looking over the tops of their heads and up at Jorrvaskr. “I hope Farkas didn’t go back home. He and Vilkas were going to have a drink before Farkas went back.”

            Arabella turned to Cicero, looking up at him because she was even shorter than he was. “I trust her, Cicero. I really do. Please, come with us.”

            Cicero stared down at her, his lips pursed together. “Fine, I will. But _I_ don’t trust her. She’s too happy. It makes my skin crawl.”

            I shrugged away the offense I took toward that, staring down at both of them and beaming. “Gods, you’re both tiny. I want to put you in my pockets and carry you around with me.” I turned toward my home, which wasn’t very far away. “Follow me.”

            Cicero mumbled incoherently as they trailed behind me. I approached my front door, shoving my key into the lock and turning it to the left. I looked back at them, signaling for them to wait a moment before I poked my head in the house around the door.

            Inside, Farkas sat on the bench in our kitchen, Vilkas standing and leaning against the staircase nearby. Both of them had wet hair and wore baggy shirts over trousers, Vilkas’ black and Farkas’ a dark green, meaning they had both probably bathed after chopping up that giant and hauling it off of the farm. As the door creaked open and I peeked inside, they both turned to me.

            Farkas’ face lit up. “Hi, Lissa!”

            “Okay, good.” I noted. “You’re both here. I was worried I would have to make a trip up to Jorrvaskr.”

            Vilkas furrowed his brow. “I thought you were spending your evening at the bar.” He raised an eyebrow, a sly smile on his face. “Let me guess: you _were_ talking to a wall.”

            “No, I wasn’t.” I said, rolling my eyes. “Listen, I brought Arabella here to meet you because she told me something that I think you would find very interesting.”

            “And you couldn’t just relay it to me later?”

            “No.” I said simply. I stepped into the house, moving to the side so Arabella and Cicero could enter too. “Okay, this is Arabella, and Cicero is her edgy lover.” I smiled at everyone in the room, noting that Cicero actually was twice as edgy as Arabella, just as she’d said. He wore red pants and a long red coat, with thick gloves and funny boots that pointed at the toes. His head was shaved on one side, his hair flipped in the other direction to expose it and his ear full of piercings.

            Arabella walked slowly, staying in between Cicero and me at all times. I watched as she lowered the dark hood she had been wearing that matched her dark dress, which was actually mourner’s attire. She stared at Farkas and Vilkas with eyes identical to theirs, full of questions.

            After a moment of processing, Farkas’ happy smile faded and Vilkas’ eyes widened. They both stood, moving closely to each other as they stared at Arabella from across the room, both wearing identical looks of confusion and horror.

            “Is that her?” Vilkas asked, looking at Farkas for just a moment, then turning back to us.

            Farkas nodded. “It is, brother. It’s her.”

            “What the hell is she doing here, Kara?” Vilkas mumbled, low enough for only me and Farkas to hear. “Why did you bring her here?”

            “What are you talking about? This is Arabella, from the bar.” I said, speaking audibly. “Do you know her?”

            “That’s the woman from the woods, Lissa.” Farkas explained, stepping forward one pace. “The necromancer.”

            I stared between the two groups in utter confusion before it began to make sense. I lowered my voice. “From Dawnstar?” I asked. “From the dreams?”

            “Aye.” Vilkas said, wearing an expression of horror I’d never seen on him before.

            I blinked as I processed the information, then I turned back to Arabella, who stared up at me in concern. I felt that she was worried, more so that they wanted nothing to do with her than that they were afraid of her. In a moment of desperate need for confirmation, I shook my head at her. “You’re the one who saved Vilkas?”

            She looked up at Cicero for a split-second, then back at me. “Yes, I am.”

            Unable to stop myself, I reached for her hand. Gripping it tightly and nodding to her, I beamed. “Thank you. I can’t thank you enough for that.” I heard my voice hitch, cracking on the last word because I meant that in my soul.

            Arabella just nodded, looking back at the twins across the room. She pointed to Vilkas. “I apologize for the scars. It comes with the gift, I’m afraid.” She moved her hair to expose the dark scars along her face and neck. “I have a few myself. They fade over time, but they never really go away.”

            Vilkas blinked once, and he exchanged a look with a Farkas before they both relaxed slightly. “It’s better than the alternative, so…thank you.”

            She nodded again, seemingly uncomfortable with the praise. I cleared my throat. “Is this why you saved him?”

            Arabella blinked at me, silent for a moment before she actually spoke. “It is. This is it.”

            I took a deep breath, turning back to Farkas and Vilkas. I waved for them to come forward. “Come on. Stop gawking and sit.”

            The twins exchanged a look, silently making sure that they trusted this. I knew they trusted me, but the situation in general was off-putting to them. They did as I instructed, lurking forward to sit on our couch by the fire pit in the center of the room.

            Arabella and I moved to sit at the table in the corner, turning our chairs toward the twins, while Cicero sat on the steps that led upstairs, his head rested on his palm, which was supported by his bent knee. He looked so indifferent, so unenthused by the events taking place, but he watched Arabella with unfaltering attentiveness.

            She, however, seemed so nervous. Arabella wrung her hands together, over and over, an action that displayed how worried she truly was. She wanted them to believe her, to understand what was so difficult to understand, and frankly, so did I. She kept looking to me for guidance, some sort of help to get her started.

            I sighed. “I promise, the boys don’t bite.” I assured her, and she nodded, a soft smile on her face as she looked back at them. “Arabella and I met at the Bannered Mare last week. Even though we spoke extensively about our lives, our experiences and our childhoods, we never actually used any names. So this evening, a few moments ago, really, when she said a name that I recognized, I brought her straight here.”

            “I don’t understand, Kara.” Vilkas said, his eyes locked with mine. “What does any of this have to do with us?”

            “I’ll let her tell the story, Villy.” I said. “Just listen to her. That’s all I want.”

            They both nodded, and Arabella inhaled and exhaled deeply before she began. “The story is complicated, because it’s my story, but you’ll find that I believe it is your story as well.” She cleared her throat, trying to swallow her nerves. “I have one question, before I begin. Is your father named Jergen?”

            Both of the twins furrowed their brows, exchanging curious glances with one another. “Was. Our father _was_ named Jergen.” Farkas said, his voice deep and worried.

            Arabella nodded. “Jergen was my father’s name, too.”

            Vilkas shook his head, turning to me again. “Kara, are you trying to suggest that—”

            “Just listen to her, Vilkas.” I said. “I wouldn’t have brought her if I didn’t believe.”

            He furrowed his brow, his usual scowl firm against the lower half of his face. Turning back to Arabella, he spoke. “We want to hear the details of your childhood, a description of the man who you assume was our father.”

            Arabella nodded. “I was born in a field in the Rift to a woman named Elle. She was a High Elf, and my father a Nord named Jergen. We lived together in a communal shack with a dozen other people for about five years, maybe a little less. My father loved my mother, but they weren’t married. She was his mistress, and she told me that she had whisked him away from a Nord woman who lived in a group of wanderers in Whiterun Hold.

            “My parents were bandits, you see, and they robbed their way to a nice living. We were like a happy little family, for a little while. Though I don’t remember much of those days, I do remember the stories my mother used to tell me, about the adventures she and my father went on, the trouble they caused together.

            “As I grew, my mother told me that the other woman, Jergen’s wife, had been sick, and he would leave us periodically to visit her. My mother told me that he still loved the sick woman, no matter how hard she tried to make him stay with her. My father was tall and he had dark hair, about to his shoulders, and his eyes were like ours—”

            “Stop.” Farkas said, his eyes sad and confused. “How do we know if this is right, brother?”

            Vilkas clenched his jaw, trying to think of something. “The sick woman. What was her name?”

            Arabella blinked, then she shut her eyes, trying to recall the name. After a moment, she opened them again, nodding to the twins. “Madelin. Her name was Madelin. Jergen called her Maddie.”

            At the words, Farkas and Vilkas both sunk back into the couch, their mouths hanging agape and their eyes glistening with tears. Vilkas sort of laughed to himself, staring back at me. “He _did_ have another family.” He shook his head, his expression contorting to disgust. “So, what? Why do you want us to know? Why should we care? He chose you. He dropped us off at Jorrvaskr, said he would come back, and never did. Meanwhile, you were probably snug in your bed with two parents, while one of ours was with _your_ mother and the other was in the ground.”

            Arabella cleared her throat. “My bed was in an orphanage, actually. When Jergen’s wife died, he left to get her children and never came back for us. My mother couldn’t take care of me, or so she said. She couldn’t go on raids by herself with a small child in tow, especially not one who looked identical to the man who left her. They never came back for me, either.”

            Farkas’ eyes grew wide. “He left you, too?”

            Arabella shrugged. “Essentially, yes.” She looked at Cicero for a moment, who was still watching only her. “I apologize, though. I thought he left us because he was with the two of you.”

            Vilkas shook his head. “He was, for a moment.” he said, his tone softening as he just accepted the information. “Not very long, though. I’m sorry I said those things, about you and your bed. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

            “No need.” Arabella said, smiling softly. “You should know that the reason I saved you that day was not out of the kindness of my heart.” She pointed at Farkas. “It was because I heard him crying, and I recognized your name. I saved you because I thought you were my brothers, and the selfish part of me wanted to know why he chose you instead, why he left me in the fields.”

            Farkas shook his head. “Well, you were right. And that _is_ out of the kindness of your heart.”

            She exhaled sharply in humorless laughter, as though the idea of her being kind was a foreign concept. “I just wanted to know why he chose you instead of me, but I understand now that he didn’t want any of us.” She smiled to herself. “I do have a father now, though. His name is Balimund. He took me in when they kicked me out of the orphanage.”

            Farkas smiled. “We had a father, too. His name was Kodlak, and he was the most wonderful man I’ve ever known.”

            “He was.” Vilkas sighed, rubbing his face with his left hand. “Well, what do we do now?”

            Arabella really laughed then, looking at Cicero. “Well, I know nearly everything about Karalissa, but I know very little about you two. She doesn’t shut up, does she?”

            Vilkas smiled finally, stealing a soft glance at me. “No, she doesn’t.” I grinned at him as he sat up, looking over his shoulder at the staircase. “Who’s this one, then?”

            “That’s my Cicero.” she said as Farkas turned to look back at him too.

            Cicero raised an eyebrow, wiggling his fingers to wave at them. “Pleasure to meet you. It smells like wet dog in here.”

            Farkas laughed, running his hand through his wet hair and relaxing back against the couch. He smiled at Arabella, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest. “Tell us everything about you.”

            And Arabella smiled, a soft sort of smile that meant she was satisfied. She found her brothers, and they wanted to know her. And so she began to speak to them, to all of us, and as the hours of night faded into morning, it was peaceful.

 

 

            I opened my eyes, suddenly blinded by the bright bedroom I was sleeping in. The light that flooded our room through the window indicated that I had actually slept into midday. I yawned, stretching my arms out as I blinked to reorient my sight, and I rubbed my face as I turned toward Vilkas, who was sitting up in bed beside me.

            I readjusted the covers, pulling them over my shoulders as I looked up at him. He wasn’t doing anything in particular, just staring up at the ceiling with his arms folded across his chest.

            “Morning, Villy.”

            He looked down at me, then, seemingly surprised to have hear me speak. He smiled crookedly, no doubt at my crazy bed-hair and only partially-opened eyes. “Good morning, pup. Or, perhaps I should say ‘good afternoon’.”

            I yawned again. “How long have you been up?”

            He ran his hand over my forehead, pushing my hair away from my face. “I never went to sleep, if I have to be honest.” He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead, then to my cheek. “I think you have a fever, Kara.”

            I rolled my eyes. “No, I don’t. Why haven’t you slept?”

            He shrugged, still pressing his hand against my warm skin. “Couldn’t. Too much to think about.” He nodded toward the door. “Farkas was up most of the night, too. I think he’s asleep now.”

            I nodded. We had all been up rather late. Arabella and Cicero didn’t leave until nearly daybreak, sleep an idea that they had both rendered unimportant, but saying they need to return to Cicero’s mother. It had been a long night, filled with storytelling from both Arabella and the twins. Once they warmed up to the idea of being related to her, Farkas and Vilkas wanted to know everything about her. Farkas had even hugged her at the end of the night, calling her his little sister and telling her to come back to visit soon.

            Vilkas was a little less enthused, as he usually was. He was fond of Arabella, I could tell, but he was still bothered by the fact that all of his suspicions had been confirmed in a matter of moments. He and Farkas had stayed up to talk to each other long after I retired to my bed, and Farkas had apparently taken the guest bedroom for the night.

            I stared up at Vilkas, who moved my hair away from the back of my neck, and placed his cold fingers against my skin. “Kara, I really think you have a fever.”

            I jerked away from him. “Agh! Your hands are just cold, Vilkas.” I exhaled, furrowing my brow at him. “What do we do now?”

            Vilkas sighed, running his index finger over my nose. “There’s nothing to be done, pup. Nothing changes. Arabella has a life of her own just as we have ours. It’s good to know that we all exist, but that doesn’t mean anything has to change.”

            “It doesn’t have to.” I agreed. “But things have changed a little, for you anyway.”

            He nodded. “Aye. It’s strange to think about it, the fact that Jergen really did have another family. I know it sounds selfish, but it’s sort of comforting to know that he didn’t actually choose another child over us. He didn’t want any of us.

            “And then I think about that, you know? Why didn’t he want any of us? Maybe that was just who he was. He was a one-man character, and he couldn’t look after anyone other than himself. Or, maybe he was just a man who really hated children. Either way, it’s alright. Farkas and I feel alright.”

            “Good.” I said, nodding. “I’m sorry I brought her to you so unexpectedly. I didn’t think about it before I did, and I probably should have.”

            Vilkas smirked, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “You did a good thing for me last night, pup. And for Farkas.” He kissed me again, then he pulled back the covers and got out of bed. “Now, it’s late. Get out of bed and I’ll make some breakfast for all of us.”

            “Okay.” I said, watching him stride from our room, shutting the door quietly behind him and then sneaking down the hall, trying not to wake Farkas.

            I rubbed my face, sitting up in bed and yawning again. I had a lot to do that day; I was behind on paperwork, and I had several documents to deliver to Jarl Vignar. I had to meet with a potential client, a meeting that Codus was supposed to sit in on. Gods, what time was it? I turned toward the window, trying to measure the sun’s height in the sky, and soon after determining that I was definitely late.

            I hopped out of bed, landing on my feet and rushing toward the wardrobe in the corner. As I put my hand on the knob, a wave of nausea washed over me, and I wobbled as my face began to tingle again. I staggered to the wastebin in the corner, near my side of the bed, and I dropped to my knees, vomiting harshly into the can for probably the seventh morning in a row.

            I sat on the ground, leaning back against my bed and resting my head against the mattress. I could feel it coming again, the bile that piled in the back of my throat and forced its way into the bin again. I coughed, spitting into the wastebin as my eyes watered, so irritated that I was _still_ sick after so much time. It had been a full week since we’d eaten that stew, and Vilkas had only been vomiting for a few days. Why did I have to endure it for a week?

            The bedroom door creaked open, and I turned, expecting to see Vilkas in the frame. Instead, it was Farkas, inviting himself in and shutting the door behind him. He walked toward me, leaning against the wall across from me and lowering himself to sit on the ground.

            “I’m sorry, Farkas. Did I wake you?”

            He shook his head. “I wasn’t really sleeping.” He tapped my foot with his. “You’re still sick.”

            I nodded. “Yeah, sick of vomiting all the time.” I sniffled, wiping away the tears that rolled down my cheeks. “I’m just tired.”

            “I’m sorry we kept you up all night.” Farkas said, looking truly apologetic.

            “Not tired like that, Farkas.” I explained. “My body is tired. It’s draining, to be this sick for so long.”

            “Oh.” he said, nodding as he understood. “What do you want me to do?”

            I sighed, pointing to the wardrobe. “Can you get my armor? I have work to do today.”

            “You can’t miss a day? I could do some paperwork for you.” He furrowed his brow. “Well, I can’t actually read what the papers say, but I could at least try.”

            I felt my heart surge, so happy to have Farkas as a friend. I shook my head though. “I really appreciate it, Farkas, but I just can’t. There’s too much to do.”

            “Okay.” Farkas said reluctantly, standing to walk toward the wardrobe. He pulled my armor from the shelf, handing it to me and looking down at me for a moment. “Let me take the wastebin.”

            “I can take care of it, Farkas.” I told him, nearly embarrassed.

            He nodded, a kind smile on his face. “I know you can.” He took the wastebin anyway, then he left me to get dressed. I listened as he moved down the hall and then descended the stairs, then I heard him mumbling unintelligibly to Vilkas.

            I rolled my eyes, knowing they were talking about me. Farkas and Vilkas had a weird way they could talk to each other, mostly with expressions and randomly placed words. It was a language I couldn’t grasp no matter how hard I tried, simply because it was just a twin thing.

            I stood from the ground, buckling my armor across my chest and pulling my boots over my feet. I brushed my hair into submission, tying it into a ponytail at the back of my head before I moved to our washbasin to brush my teeth.

            Shortly after, I bounded down the stairs, where I was greeted by Vilkas waiting for me at the base of the steps. He stood with his arms folded, staring at me with concern.

            “What’s wrong, Villy?” I said, pretending I didn’t have any possible idea what he could be worried for.

            “Don’t do that, Kara.” he replied, rolling his eyes. “You shouldn’t still be sick. It’s been a week, and mine ended days ago. We’re going to go to the temple of Kynareth to figure out what’s wrong with you.”

            “No, we’re not.” I replied simply, walking past him and leaning over Farkas, who was sitting at our kitchen table, and I took an apple from the bowl in the center. “I have a lot of work to do today.”

            Vilkas sighed. “This is important, Kara. I’m worried for you.”

            “Don’t be.” I said, shrugging to him as I took a bite of the apple. “It will pass. I think it’s almost over.” Vilkas still looked so unsure, so I grumbled in exasperation. “Okay, how about I talk to Tilma after my meeting? I’m sure she’ll know how to fix it.”

            Vilkas relaxed a little. “Alright, talk to Tilma. But if you’re still sick tomorrow, I’m taking you to the temple.”

            I smirked, kissing his cheek as I passed. “Fine.” I said over my shoulder as I strode toward the door.

 

 

            Codus closed the door behind our client, having walked him to the door of my office after our meeting. Once the door was shut, he leaned against the door frame, his eyes widened to convey a look of both annoyance and relief that the meeting was over.

            “My gods, Harbinger.” he mumbled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in the presence of such an insufferable man.”

            Our client had been Nazeem, who used to be a servant of the Cloud District. When the Stormcloaks came through and ousted Jarl Balgruuf, though, he’d lost his job and was run out of Whiterun City. Since then, he’d been living in a small shack on the outskirts of the hold with his wife. Apparently, they were dealing with a spider infestation, and he finally mustered up the gusto to come back here and ask for help.

            Codus shook his head at me, laughing quietly. “Has he always been like that?”

            “I’m afraid so. Might be best not to ask me questions, though, since I’m so incompetent.”

            Unfortunately for us, Nazeem was simply the most annoying person in all of Whiterun hold. He was pompous and arrogant, and even though he no longer held a position higher up than me, he referred to me as an ‘incompetent little Nord who couldn’t fill Kodlak Whitemane’s shoes’ when I’d told him the price of an animal extermination job.

            Codus grimaced, an expression I rarely saw cross his face. “Well, if you’re incompetent, the rest of us must be plain old dumb.” He raised an eyebrow, striding back to his seat across from me. “You did a nice job of controllin’ yourself, Harbinger. It shames me to admit I may have killed a man who spoke to _me_ like that.”

            I shrugged, sighing in exasperation. “I’m used to it, at this point. Most everyone doubted me in the beginning.”

            “Then most everyone doesn’t have much sense.” he said simply, pulling a form from the cabinet behind him. He dipped his quill in the inkwell beside him. “Now, who’s takin’ this job?”

            “Mm, better give it to Aela to deal out.”

            At that very moment, the door opened. Aela bounded in, making herself comfortable at the table in the seat beside me.

            “Heard my name.” she said simply, kicking her legs up on the table top. “What the hell was all of the yelling about?”

            “Nazeem has an animal extermination job. It’s yours to delegate.” I explained.

            “What kind of extermination?” she asked me, leaning her head over the back of the chair to stare up at the ceiling.

            “Spider.” Codus told her. “Lad said that he had ten or fifteen of ‘em.”

            Aela cackled, shaking her head. “I would have given the job to Farkas. But you’re nicer than I am.” She turned her head toward me, her face quizzical beneath three stripes of blue warpaint. “Speaking of Farkas, I just heard the news.”

            “About Arabella?” I asked, and Aela confirmed with a nod. “Yes, that all happened last night. I didn’t know Farkas already made it up here this morning.”

            Aela nodded her head from side to side. “He is. Vilkas is too. Farkas just told me everything an hour or so ago.” She smiled. “He seems excited.”

            I shrugged. “Well, I’m glad he is. Vilkas will warm up to it too, I think. He’s sort of stuck on Jergen’s infidelity, at the moment.”

            “I figured as such.” Aela said. “He always takes a little bit of time to come around.”

            Codus cleared his throat. “Apologies, but I’m not quite sure what we’re talkin’ about.”

            “In a nut shell, Farkas and Vilkas just discovered they have a half-sister last night.” Aela explained. “It’s nothing very major, because they both thought very lowly of their father, but it was just surprising, I would assume.” She turned to me. “How did you even figure that out, Lissa?”

            “Arabella and I were talking about her childhood, and she had mentioned her father had other children. She said she was looking for her brothers, who didn’t even know she existed. I told her I’d help her try to find them, just trying to be nice because she’s a good person, and she mentioned that her father’s name was Jergen. I just took me a while to put the pieces together.”

            Aela snorted. “Well, you certainly helped her find them, alright. But for someone who’s as smart as you are, you’re an idiot, Lissa.”

            “I know.” I said, leaning against my palm.

            Codus furrowed his brow. “Do you have a fever, Harbinger? You look a little redder than usual.”

            I groaned, dropping my head to the table. “What is with you men? Let me exist peacefully in moderately warm temperature.”

            “Farkas said you had the pukes.” Aela noted. “It’s been how long, now? A week?”

            “Yep. A week.” I confirmed. “I wish everyone would stop acting like I’ll die if I throw up a little. It’s my own fault for eating Lydia’s cooking.”

            Aela sat up. “Hang on, Lissa. You were sick a week before that stew.”

            I lifted my head and furrowed my brow. “That was a hang-over, Aela.”

            Codus and Aela exchanged a look. “Are you sure you feel alright, Harbinger?” Codus asked. “You have been actin’ differently.”

            “What are you two talking about?”

            Codus shrugged. “Well, just yesterday, ate almost an entire wheel of cheese before we went up to deal with that giant. And you hate cheese.”

            I rolled my eyes. “Well, that’s probably why I vomited this morning.”

            Aela’s eyes narrowed. “You cried because you couldn’t find a book on Loredas.”

            “It was a good book. Besides, I’ve had an emotional month.” I tried to rationalize. “Cut me some slack, you two. So I stress-eat and I lose books.” I dropped my head to the table again. “Everyone is on my back about something.”

            Aela cleared her throat. “Are you drawing the same conclusion I am?” she asked Codus.

            “I believe I am, actually.” he replied, his voice twinging on disbelief.

            I sat up straight, staring between them. “What are you two getting at?”

            Aela blinked at me. “Lissa, you’ve been vomiting in the mornings for some time now. You’ve been an emotional mess for more than a month, now. And, you’ve been eating a lot of weird stuff. I don’t think it’s stress-eating.”

            “Or food poisonin’.” Codus added.

            “Or a hangover.” Aela said finally, and they both stared at me, waiting for me to understand them.

            I sat in silence as I mulled over the possibilities. I was emotional because of Ulfric’s admission, wasn’t I? I’d been sick because I’d been trying to drink away my sadness about Viarmo, who’d previously not been someone I ever thought about. I was stress-eating, something I had always done, but what was I stressed about? I tried to think, to come up with some logical reason that this wasn’t what they thought it was.

            And then, I realized I’d failed connect the pieces, once again. It wasn’t food poisoning or a hangover; it was morning sickness. I wasn’t just emotional because of Ulfric or Viarmo or Ma; I was unnaturally high or devastatingly low. I wasn’t stress-eating; I was satisfying the spontaneous cravings I’d been harboring.

            I laughed to myself, shaking my head. “By the Nine,” I said, more to myself than to Aela or Codus. “I _am_ an idiot.”

            Aela nodded. “Yeah. You are.”


	12. A Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassius, Lydia, and Catriona pay Ulfric and Galmar a visit at the Palace of Kings.
> 
> POV: Cassius

            Lydia and I climbed the steps to the Palace of Kings, both of us bundled in warm sweaters to combat the cold. Now that it was nearly Evening Star, the cold was really rolling in, and the streets of Windhelm were caked in thick, white snow. It was mid-afternoon, and the snow had still not melted even slightly, so several guards had taken to shoveling the white velvet out of the pathways.

            I had Catriona on my hip, since Karl was busy with a meeting that day and Vilkas was training. With no one to watch her, we had no choice but to bring her with us.

            I smiled to myself, thinking about the last time Lydia and I had climbed these steps together. It had been nearly two years ago, when she and I came with Vilkas to pick up Galmar before we took the Rift. I remembered the three of us climbing the steps, convincing the guards to let us in, and wearing heavy armor. It was funny, now that we were back and dressed in street clothes with a chubby-cheeked, blue-eyed baby on my hip, and Lydia had a huge baby bag over her shoulder.

            We approached the guards at the door, nodding in acknowledgment because I knew they had no idea who I was. One thing that had been very important to me when this all started was that I keep my actual identity a secret so that I could roam around and have normal interactions with people. It still caught me off guard, though, when the Windhelm patrol unsheathed their swords and pointed them at me, my wife, and my harmless baby.

            I cleared my throat, smiling politely. “We’re here to see the High King.”

            “Names?” One of the two asked, though which one spoke, I couldn’t tell.

            “We’re the Felsteads. The High King knows who we are.” I said, trying to control the irritation building in my chest.

            One turned and entered the palace, leaving the three of us to stand awkwardly in the cold at the end of the remaining guard’s sword. Lydia turned toward Cat, tightening her little coat and repositioning the hat on her head. I had another one of my sweaters wrapped around her, simply because she’d spit up on the blanket I’d brought for her, and I readjusted that around Cat’s shoulders again, trying to keep her one hundred percent warm.

            The guard reemerged moments later, and he held the door open for us to enter. We pushed past him, and I did my best not to shoot him a challenging glare. Galmar greeted us inside, walking down the long, main room toward us.

            “Good to see you.” he called to me, laughing from beneath his long beard. Closing the distance between us, he extended his hand to me and gave Lydia an awkward hug. After a moment, he looked down at my daughter. “Gods, you brought the baby. Ulfric is going to lose his mind.”

            “Not a baby person?” Lydia asked, raising an eyebrow at Galmar.

            He chuckled awkwardly. “Not me. Don’t get me wrong, she’s cute and all. Babies just aren’t for me.” He shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. “Now, Ulfric, he’s a baby person. Loves to hold them and hug them and look at them. It’s weird.”

            I nudged Lydia. “Sounds like Vilkas.”

            Galmar began walking toward the back planning room, gesturing for us to follow. “Vilkas doesn’t like babies?”

            “Oh, quite the opposite.” Lydia said with a small laugh. “He’s obsessed. I can’t keep my child away from him. It was quite unexpected, since he’s so…gruff.”

            “Grumpy.” I added.

            “Yes, grumpy.”

            Galmar shrugged as we entered the planning room, pushing the door to the living quarters of the palace and guiding us toward an unknown location. He turned left about halfway down the hall, guiding us into a large library. Every wall was lined with books to the ceilings, even more than in the study I’d already seen. There were a few chairs near the window in the back, and Ulfric sat facing the window in a large, red chair, his nose in a book.

            “Ulfric.” Galmar grumbled.

            Ulfric sighed. “Reading.”

            “Children.” Galmar said simply, leaning over the chair and snatching the book from Ulfric’s hand, tabbing the page and dropping it onto the table nearby. Ulfric turned around to face us, a smile on his face as he acknowledged us.

            “Well, this is a surprise.” he said, standing and moving toward us. “Awfully long trip here from Lakeview.”

            “Ah, we don’t mind much.” I said, extending my hand when Ulfric offered his to me. He smiled to Lydia, exchanging formal pleasantries with her.

            He put his hand on my shoulder, looking down at the blue-eyed beauty on my left hip. “You’ve brought Catriona.”

            I shrugged. “Karl and Vil were busy, so here she is.” I held Cat toward him, and Ulfric took her little hand and shook it too. Cat giggled profusely, content as always to be gawked at.

            Ulfric smiled as he looked between us. “Have you eaten?” Lydia and I shrugged to each other, silently explaining in a language that only we understood that we hadn’t eaten since we stopped to sleep last night.

            “Oh, we ate with our driver, Ulfric.” Lydia said simply, which wasn’t necessarily a lie, but something about taking food from the High King seemed wrong.

            Ulfric nodded for us to follow, leading us toward the kitchen and gesturing for us to sit. There was already a vast amount of food on the table, and he encouraged us to eat whatever we wanted. After a moment of silent debate, Lydia and I both began to eat.

            Ulfric and Galmar sat across from us, Ulfric leaning against his palm and watching Cat. She was staring between us, watching me and Lydia eat for a moment, then looking back at Ulfric and smiling.

            I cleared my throat, swallowing a mouthful of bread and then raising my eyebrows to Ulfric. “Do you want to hold her?”

            His face lit up, and he extended his arms to take Cat from me. I handed her to him, watching as he sat her on his lap, holding both of her little hands in either of his. She grinned a goofy grin at me, making happy-baby-squealing noises as she made a new friend.

            I exchanged a look with Lydia, smiling at my wife as my father held my child for the first time. It was a happy moment, one of my favorite moments, watching Ulfric bounce my baby around, which was rather comical next to Galmar, who simply scowled at Ulfric and Cat in disinterest.

            Finally, Galmar turned to me and Lyd. “Now, I highly doubt you came all this way to let Ulfric hold a baby.”

            Ulfric laughed. “But I’d certainly be glad if you did.” he said, booping Cat’s nose.

            I laughed too, wiping my hands on my pants. “Actually, we came to discuss the ‘Jarl of Windhelm’ business.”

            Both Galmar and Ulfric’s eyes widened, grins stretching across their faces. “So you’ve done some thinking?” Galmar asked, raising a brow in my direction.

            “Do share, Cass.” Ulfric added, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

            I exhaled loudly. “Well, Lydia and I have had a lot of discussion pertaining to this particular topic. Honestly, a few years ago, I wanted nothing more than to be Jarl. We were actually just discussing on the way here, the last time Lydia and I were in the palace, I’d specifically told her and Vilkas that I could rule a city.

            “The simple fact, though, is that I can’t.” I said, nodding to both of them. “I’m just not fit for a position like that. Sure, I could do my Dragonborn business fine, but I’m even past that. Karl calls it ‘retirement’, but I just think I’m content. This is what I always wanted: a quiet life with my family.”

            Ulfric nodded, smiling to me. “And that’s completely understandable, Cassius.”

            I smiled, nodding to him again. “I appreciate your understanding. We did have an idea, though, and we wanted to know if you were open to it.”

            “Of course, Cass. Let me hear it.”

            I glanced at Lydia, who smiled crookedly at me. “Well, after I decided that this was really what I wanted to do, Lydia and I were mulling over the options, what would happen if I didn’t take the throne. How is it decided? Who will reign if your son does not?”

            Ulfric beamed at the words ‘your son’, blinking as he thought. “Well, I suppose I would just pick someone else, if none of my children wanted the throne. Of course, it’s officially up to the moot to decide, but they…typically go along with what I decide.” Ulfric bobbed his head from side to side, hugging my daughter against his chest. “I know I didn’t ask, but I imagine Karalissa has no interest in the throne.”

            Lydia and I both laughed. “Yeah, we brought the idea up to her.” I explained, feeling Lydia’s hand on my shoulder. “Karl really only has three interests: reading, the Companions, and Vilkas, and honestly Vilkas and the Companions are sort of the same thing. When we asked if she had any desire to be Jarl, she just laughed at us.”

            Galmar smirked. “The girl’s a warrior at heart. She gets bored too easily, and I admire that.”

            Ulfric smiled too. “Who did you have in mind then, Cassius?”

            I placed my hand on Lyd’s back. “Well, how about Lydia?”

            Ulfric cocked his head to the side, looking at Lydia with curiosity. “You’re interested in the throne, Battle-Maiden?”

            Lyd smiled, offering him a small shrug. “Well, yes. Speaking strictly qualifications, I’d be a better fit for the job. Aside from his being your son and Skyrim’s savior, Cass hasn’t really ever been involved in any sort of parliamentary system.” She pushed her hair behind her right ear. “I was right-hand to the Dragonborn, so I dealt with all of the business in Dragonsreach for him. I sat in on the meetings with Jarl Balgruuf, I did the paperwork for him, and I kept him in check. I’m sure you’ve realized he’s pretty hot-headed, so I have plenty of experience handling…temperamental Nords. In addition, I spent a year with the Whiterun guard. I wasn’t an actual guard, but I did organize their training sessions and their duty rotations.”

            Ulfric nodded. “All very important skills, but there’s something else that matters more, to me.”

            Lydia’s brow furrowed, I knew she was expecting to have to defend herself. “What’s that, my King?”

            With a smile, Ulfric answered. “You fought for the country of Skyrim. Even when your health did not permit because you were carrying this child, you marched into battle with Galmar and my troops. You would make an excellent Jarl, and I’d be more than happy to seat you in my throne.”

            Lydia’s face blushed, and she turned toward me with a huge grin. Turning back to Ulfric, she extended her hand to him. “Thank you, my King. I won’t disappoint.”

            He shook her hand, laughing at her excitement. “I know you won’t.” He looked between the two of us. “Now, you both understand that this means a change of residence.”

            I smiled at my wife, who beamed back at me. “We’re prepared to move into the Palace of Kings.”

            Ulfric nodded. “Excellent. Galmar and I were actually hoping to move into Northshore Castle within the month, so your timing is perfect.”

            Galmar nodded, his lips pursed in satisfaction, the closest he came to a smile. “I’ll push the paperwork. We could have her seated within the next few weeks.”

            “You’re sure you’re prepared?” Ulfric asked, his glance bouncing between me and Lydia again.

            We exchanged a look, a quiet conversation about how willing we really were to do this. After a moment, I turned back to Ulfric, nodding to him for a final time. “We are. We’re prepared.”


	13. An Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arabella struggles with Cicero when he's having a bad day, and he's not alone in his mind. 
> 
> POV: Arabella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, pals. This one is dark. It will really give you an insight into just how mad both Arabella and Cicero are, though.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, though. We're about to get into some good stuff, so bear with me. 
> 
> Also, I'll be alternating updating Before the Storm and Walk with the Shadows, so that I can knock both out at the same time. PS More Farkela to come, as per request.
> 
> I wanted to take a hot second to thank Lex73, Manu, and ScribeoftheKingofKnights (my editing pal and I call you SotKoK, btw) for following my work so avidly and leaving feedback constantly. I literally would not have kept writing after Blood's Honor without the confidence you gave me in my writing and ideas. I just spent all of yesterday reading a twenty-nine chapter fic that didn't even get an ending, other than the author posting that they'd lost confidence to write. It was one of the best fics I've read in a long time, and I really wish they had known how good it was.
> 
> Okay, anyhow, you rock, lads and lassies. Keep on keepin' on.
> 
> Here come da fic

            We were in Solitude, and I smiled as I watched Cicero and Babette dance in the courtyard of Vittoria Vicci’s wedding. It was a clear evening, the only light other than the numerous torches that surrounded us was the full moon, shining down on us from the dark sky.

            Then, I was running across the ledge, deciding in a split-second that I wouldn’t use the ladder. I jumped off of the wall, my arms extended fully on either side of me as I flew away from Solitude. For a moment, it did really feel like I was flying, the wind blowing through my hair and against my face.

            Of course, then I realized I was falling, but I wasn’t scared as I hit the water’s surface, because a strong arm pulled me back up for air. Veezara tugged me along, dragging me onto the shore as I blinked to reorient my senses. He grinned at me, and we dashed toward the stables.

            When we reached the wagon, Veezara tossed me a bundle of clothes, signaling me to duck into the stables to dispose of the wet dress. I did, dipping beneath the wooden archway and stripping from the wet dress that clung to my skin. I pulled on the dry material as I heard the wagon moving, signaling that it was time for me to move. Cicero screamed from the wagon, and I sprinted to catch up with them.

            _“Arabella! Arabella, say something.”_

            Cicero extended an arm, reaching out for me and lugging me up into the back of the wagon. He pulled me into his chest, his face pressed into my wet hair and inhaling deeply as he calmed himself. We all celebrated shortly after, and Cicero plopped the piece of cake into Veezara’s lap. Cicero steered the wagon, and I laughed with Veezara as he tugged a lock of my wet hair, taking a bite of the dead bride’s wedding cake.

            I woke smiling and shaking, not because I was upset or experiencing a night terror, but because Cicero had his hands on either of my shoulders, shaking me violently. I felt my eyes flutter open, and I blinked as I tried to assess what was happening.

            I sat up, and he stared at me with this wild look on his face for a moment. His eyes glistened with tears, and my smile faded as I realized how truly upset he was. Within a second’s time, he wrapped his arms around my torso, holding me against him and trying to control his sobs.

            I felt my brow furrow as he pressed his face against my neck, his cheeks wet and his skin warm. I placed my hand on the back of his head, smoothing his hair to try and comfort him. He lifted his head to look at me, running his fingertips over my nose and forehead. I understood, then, because he only did that when he needed to make sure I was real.

            Cicero was in control of his own thoughts nearly all the time, but he still had bad days where he couldn’t block out the laughter in his head. He was triggered by off-putting comments or just silence, and it would say things to him to fill the quiet. It was a side-effect of spending eight years in absolute silence when he protected the Night Mother after the fall of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, but most days, it was manageable.

            And then, there were days like this where he would work himself up and do whatever the voice told him to do. It broke my heart to see him like this, because I knew he hated himself for listening, but he couldn’t stop.

            He sniffled, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Cicero was sitting in his room, and all he heard was the silence.” he explained, his shift to third-person perspective confirming that he wasn’t alone. “The Listener wasn’t screaming, so Cicero thought she was awake, and she could make the laughing stop. Then he came into the room and the Listener wasn’t awake, but she wasn’t screaming. The laughter said that screaming was what was right, the screaming was normal, so something was wrong. Cicero shook you and shook you but you didn’t move, and Cicero just thought—”

            I pushed his hair away from his face, wiping tears from his cheeks as I spoke to him. “I’m fine, my dear Cicero. We’re both fine.”

            He nodded, looking down as he tried to sort his thoughts. “Why wasn’t the Listener screaming? What was wrong?”

            I smiled at him, realizing it for myself. “I wasn’t having a nightmare.” I told him, my hand against the side of his face. “I had a good dream.”

            Cicero looked back up at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “The Listener didn’t dream what she always does?”

            “No.” I said, laughing quietly. “I dreamt of our trip to Solitude, our contract at Vittoria Vicci’s wedding.”

            Cicero blinked several times, like he was trying to remember for himself. After a moment, he smiled. “That was a good day. I remember it.” he said, transitioning back to normality. He turned to one of my painted windows that adorned my walls, a gift from Babette and Cicero. “That’s it, right there. You and me and Babette and Ve—” He paused, looking up at me cautiously.

            I nodded, my smile holding steady. “Veezara was there too.”

            Cicero blinked again, looking at his hands and then looking back up at me. “Oh, Arabella. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He ran his hands over my shoulders, then he grazed my cheek with his thumb. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

            “No, you didn’t.” I told him, shaking my head.

            He seemed relieved at my words, and he shut his eyes, releasing a great sigh. “It’s loud today, Arabella.”

            “I know.” I said to him, stroking his hair again. “It’s okay. We’ll be careful.” I brushed the dark circles under his eyes with my fingers. “Have you slept yet, my dear?”

            “No.” he explained. “When I try, it laughs louder and louder. It’s too quiet to sleep.”

            “Sleep in here.” I said. “I’ll talk to you so you won’t hear the laughter.”

            He nodded, laying back on my bed with me. He tucked himself under the covers, wrapping his arm around my torso. Cicero kissed my jaw before he rested his head against my shoulder, willing himself to feel comforted. “I love you, Arabella.”

            I smiled, placing a soft kiss against his warm forehead. “I love you, too.” I thought for a moment, trying to think of something to talk about. “Once, there was a young man, and his name was Josiah. He lived on a farm with his family: his mother, his father, and his younger sister. The family worked every day, tending to crops and selling vegetables to the market square to earn enough coin to stay on their farm…”

 

 

            I sighed, tossing the Nightshade to the side. “It’s no use, Babette. I’ll never be any good at alchemy.”

            Babette laughed, still crushing up the flowers in a stone bowl at the desk in my room. I’d never been much of an alchemist, and I spent the earlier days at Falkreath trying desperately to learn, but I always ended up ruining a salve or messing up a potion. I’d even caused an explosion once, something Babette never let me live down.

            Now that she was awake, and there were currently no contracts available, she sat in my room, trying once again to teach me how to make healing potions. She had her own recipe, one that was centuries older than current recipes, and though she flew through it with ease, I had botched three batches.

            “Nonsense, Listener. You’ll get it eventually.” she assured. Babette was one of the kindest souls I’d ever come across. There wasn’t a bad bone in her little body, despite her being a beast of the night and a skilled assassin. “Do you want to have a go at it, Cicero?”

            Cicero was awake too, unable to sleep because the laughter was still bothering him. He had sat silently all day and now into the night, his eyes darting around every so often. He chewed his nails, his other hand on my leg under the table. Cicero never broke physical contact with me when he was like this, whether it was his hand on my leg, his arm touching mine, or he was actually holding me tightly.

            He didn’t respond, so I wrapped my hand around his fist at his mouth, lowering it to the table. “Don’t chew your nails, my dear. Not much nutrition in that.” He nodded to me, sitting on the hand he’d had at his mouth. “Babette asked if you wanted to do alchemy with her.”

            He lifted his head to look at Babette, who greeted him with a warm smile. “Oh, no thank you, Babette.”

            Babette just nodded, glancing at me before she returned to her alchemy. Babette and Nazir were more familiar with Cicero’s outbursts than anyone else in the sanctuary. Over the years, we’d learned the proper ways to restrain him when he worked himself up, the ways to talk him down. When Cicero was in this state, I tried to keep one of them with me at all times, in case I needed them to help me bring him back to sanity.

            Babette sighed, shifting in her chair. “So, you found your family, Listener.” she noted, smiling at me. “What are they like?”

            I laughed. “Actually, there are a lot of them. So, I have two brothers, Farkas and Vilkas. They’re twins, both so alike and yet completely opposite to one another. Vilkas is older, and he’s sort of gruff. Dark and sulky, has a bit of an angry temperament. But he’s highly intelligent, one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. He just knows things, very random and obscure bits of information that you would have to look in a book to know. He’s married to Karalissa, who’s one of the strangest people I’ve come in contact with in a long time. She’s bouncy and bubbly and happy all the time, which is Vilkas’ polar opposite. She’s quirky, too. Says weird things, like she wanted to put me and Cicero in her pocket and carry us around.

            “And then Farkas is the younger of the two. You wouldn’t think it, though, because he’s bigger than Vilkas in both height and muscle. He’s easily more than a foot taller than me, and he towered over everyone. He’s so kind; the sweetest man, you wouldn’t even imagine. He has a big heart, which makes up for the fact that he’s not quite as quick-witted as Vilkas. He has lover, I suppose, but I haven’t met her.”

            “Were they shocked?” Babette asked, her tone kind and curious.

            “Of course.” I confirmed, nodding my head. I glanced at Cicero, who still stared blankly. I knew he was just focusing on what I was saying, his hand still firmly against my leg. I leaned against my palm, propping my head up as I continued. “They didn’t really know our father had another child. Vilkas had suspicions, but Farkas was completely oblivious. They were very kind, though. Cicero and I spent hours in Vilkas’ home, just talking.”

            “Well, that’s good to hear.” Babette said, a smile on her face. “What did you tell them when they asked what you did for work? I imagine you didn’t tell them you’re the voice of the Dark Brotherhood.”

            I laughed. “I told them we were wanderers. It’s not necessarily a lie. We do wander a good bit.”

            Babette laughed quietly. She looked up at me after a moment. “You know, I’ve never asked you what it’s like.”

            “What do you mean, sister?”

            “Hearing the Night Mother speak. What’s it like?”

            I cocked my head to the side, realizing no one had ever asked that before. “A curious question, dearest Babette.” I thought for a moment. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s just a whisper in the back of my head.”

            “What’s her voice like?”

            “Hmm.” I considered how to describe it. “It’s sort of raspy. Just a whisper.” I laughed to myself, folding my arms across my chest. “It’s funny. The first time I heard her voice, I thought I was crazy. Almost like I was making it up, I was losing it and there was this voice in my head telling me the right things to say.” I shook my head as Babette laughed along with me. “It’s just funny, the things that changed over time. Now I’m twice as delusional.” Babette and I shared another good laugh.

            Cicero’s hand jerked away from me, and he blinked rapidly, shaking his head. He stared at me with a wild expression on his face, like I’d offended him beyond words. I glanced at Babette quickly, realizing I’d said something to trigger the voice without meaning to.

            “You’re not the Listener.” he mumbled, staring at me with accusing eyes.

            I shook my head, standing from my seat as Babette did, both distancing myself from him and preparing to restrain him. “I didn’t mean that, Cicero. It didn’t come out the way it was supposed to.”

            He shook his head. “She is the Listener. She said something wrong.” He sat there, staring at his closed fists on the table, shaking his head violently, attempting to force the voice away.

            I moved toward him, despite Babette’s protest. Standing behind him, I put my hand against the side of his face, stroking his cheek with my thumb. “I’m sorry, Cicero. I didn’t mean—”

            He grabbed my wrist, pushing back from his chair and turning toward me. “You’ve betrayed the Dark Brotherhood. You’ve betrayed the Night Mother’s trust.”

            I blinked at him, trying to calmly remove my wrist from his grasp. “I am the Listener, Cicero. You know that. It’s just saying things to you that aren’t true.”

            “There is no Listener!” he shouted, shaking me by the arm. “There’s only Cicero, Cicero in the dark and the silence. Cicero and the Laughter.”

            It wasn’t the first time I had to convince him that I was the Listener, so I spoke the Binding Words. “Darkness rises when silence dies.” I said to him, repeating the first words Mother had told me to relay to him. “Mother wanted me to tell you that, remember?”

            That usually worked, usually brought him down, but for whatever reason it didn’t that night. He clapped his hand over my mouth to silence me. “How dare you say those sacred words?”

            I moved my face away from his hand, leaning around it to speak. “They’re my words, Cicero. Mother gave them to me to say to you.”

            “He says I hate you. The Laughter says that Cicero hates you.” He blinked, staring absently for a moment, a disgusted look on his face. “No, that’s not true. I don’t hate her.”

            “You love me, Cicero. You just told me this morning.” I reached for his face again, ran my thumb over his eyebrow.

            He jerked away from me, releasing me from his iron grasp and staggering back. “No!” he screamed. “I won’t do that!”

            I glanced at Babette again, who silently asked me if she should go for help. I nodded, and she backed out of my room to fetch someone strong enough to restrain him.

            Cicero pounded against the side of his head. “Stop talking! I can’t do that! I won’t!”

            I backed out of the way as Cicero overturned my desk, sending all of my documents and drawer contents flying. He paced back and forth, smacking the sides of his head with open palms with brute force. He moaned to himself, shaking his head as he continued to pound against it.

            “I won’t! I will not! She’s good, I swear!” he paused for a moment, a voice speaking to him that only he could hear. “No!” he screamed. “She _is_ the Listener!”

            “You and I met outside of the Loreius Farm.” I said, loud enough for him to hear me over his own fists slamming into his ears. “The wheel fell off of your wagon, and Loreius refused to help you. I stole his tools, and you and I—”

            Cicero dropped to his knees, gripping the sides of his head and sobbing loudly, the sight of him utterly heartbreaking. “Cicero is still in the dark. None of this is real. Cicero is s-still in Cheydinhal, and Mother won’t speak to me.”

            Unable to stop myself, I moved toward him slowly, approaching him with heavy enough footsteps not to startle him.

            “Cicero is crazy. Mad, mad, mad.” He looked up at me, tears rolling down his face as he choked on sobs. “You’re not real. None of it’s real. It’s in my head. It’s in my head, just like the laughter.”

            I kneeled before him, and he looked so horrified of me, I nearly began to cry myself. I’d never seen him quite this bad, so erratic and inconvincible. Stupid as I was, but blinded by the need to comfort him, I rested on my folded legs, sliding into his grasp and wrapping my arms around his neck. It was fine, for a moment. His sobbing ceased and his shaking became less violent. And then, even stupider, I pulled back just a hair to look at his face.

            His hand caught my throat, gripping me more so by the jawline than my neck, and he pulled me to the ground. I didn’t think about the fact that he had a weapon until he pulled his dagger from his boot, holding it at my chest.

            “Are you real?” he asked, his voice low and dark.

            “I am.” I struggled to say around his hand, which nearly prevented me from speaking at all. By Sithis, where the hell was Babette?

            Cicero blinked, his brow furrowing. He removed his dagger, immediately swiping my upper arm with the blade. I felt it sever the flesh, and though I gasped, I immediately healed it.

            It was the stupidest thing I could have done, because Cicero shrieked with laughter, shaking my head in utter rage. “Real people bleed! You’re not real!”

            Panicking, I shook my head. “I’m real, Cicero! I’m real, and you _love_ me. And I love _you_. And you won’t hurt me, I know you won’t.”

            Cicero blinked at me through the tears. “It says you’re _lying_. It says you’re lying to save yourself.”

            I raised my leg to kick him off of me, sending him almost a foot away from where I lay against the ground. I sat up straight, crawling backwards on my palms to get away from him. He was already up though, twirling his blade in his hand as he moved toward me. Cicero kicked the bookcase over, sending books to topple down and crush me. One hit me directly in the nose, causing blood to drip from my nostrils.

            I touched the blood with my middle and index finger, extending my hand to show Cicero my crimson finger tips. “I’m real!” I shouted at him, panic audible in my voice. “I’m real!”

            He cocked his head to the side, then reached down to lift me up by the shoulders, picking me off of the ground so that my feet dangled midair. Nazir came through the door, then, taking a moment to assess what was happening, ran at a dash straight for Cicero. Cicero threw me away from him, and I felt my head smack against the wall behind me.

            I hit the floor, my vision blurry and my head throbbing, but I could just barely make out Nazir holding Cicero down on the ground as he flailed and cursed. Babette was in the corner, holding a cloth and a bottle of something unknown to me.

            “S-Sedate him.” I commanded, my voice just barely audible to them. “Please, sedate him.” I needed to heal myself, but I couldn’t find my hands.

            The last thing I saw was Babette cover screaming Cicero’s mouth with the rag she held, and his screaming faded into quiet cries, and then, he was silent.

 

            It was dark, the room I was in. I knew in my soul that I was in the Night Mother’s chamber, the secret crypt beyond the fireplace, but it didn’t look right. Things were backwards, things were out of place. Still, tired and needing the comfort, I sat on one of the benches before the coffin, staring up at the iron tomb and shaking my head.

            “I’m trying, Mother. I’m trying to do right by him, but it’s so much. I don’t think I can help him.” I heard my voice crack with the last word, my heart building up in my throat.

            _There is no way to save poor, sweet Cicero. This will always be his mind, and his mind will always be this._

            “I thought I was helping him.” I said to her. “I thought I was fixing him, making him feel better.” I stared down at my hands, folded in my lap. “I’ve failed you, Mother. I can’t help your son.”

            _Some things aren’t meant to be fixed, my dear Listener._

            “But, maybe if I were better, if I gave him less to worry about, he would heal.” I felt tears roll away from my eyes, and I reached up to wipe them away with the back of my hand. “It’s my fault he hurts. I’m not available when he needs me. I’ve been so wrapped up in finding my brothers, I haven’t thought about the things he needs.”

            I heard a laugh behind me, a vaguely familiar laugh, but I didn’t turn. “He loves you. You’re all he needs.”

            I waited patiently as the voice shuffled toward me, boots slinking against the stone floor as it closed the distance between us. I felt the figure sit beside me, but I was too afraid to look. I knew the voice, knew it in my soul, but it had been so long since I’d heard it. I couldn’t be right. I couldn’t be.

            With a sigh, he shook his head. “The Night Mother is right.” Veezara said, scratching his forearm. “Some things can’t be mended, Arabella. He’s too far gone.”

            I looked up at him, his kind eyes watching me as I spoke. “What do I do, then? Just endure the crazy?”

            He shrugged. “That seems to be your only option.” He inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. “He knows you love him, and that helps him. He wouldn’t have made it this far without you, but this is as far as he will get.”

            I nodded. “I know.” I pursed my lips, turning back to look at my feet. “I’m not dead, am I?”

            Veezara laughed. “No, you’re not dead.”

            I felt my brow furrow, and I looked up to greet his gaze again. “But you are. If I’m not dead, how are we talking to each other?”

            “It’s in your head.” he responded simply. “I’ve always been here. You just haven’t wanted to speak to me until now.”

            “So I’m making this up?” I asked, and he responded with a nod. “And Mother wasn’t just speaking to me?”

            “No, she was. She’s part of you, just as you are part of her.”

            I nodded, absorbing the information. “I’m mad, aren’t I? Just as mad as Cicero.”

            Veezara sighed, nodding to me again. “Unfortunately, yes.”

            I took a breath, resting my head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

            “It’s okay.” he replied happily. “I’m sorry you couldn’t save yourself.”

            “That’s okay, too.” I looked up at the ceiling as it cracked, dust sprinkling on our heads and shoulders. “I think I have to go, now.”

            “You do.” he said, standing from the bench and extending a hand to pull me to my feet. “You’ve got a sanctuary to lead, and a room to clean up, for that matter. Go, make sure Cicero is alright.”

            I nodded, smiling up at him. “When will I see you again?”

            Veezara smiled too, a kind grin that told me I was truly insane. “Whenever you want. It’s your mind, after all.”

            “I’ll see you soon, then.” I said, my feet rising off of the floor.

            Veezara released my hand, allowing me to float through the ceiling and back to consciousness. “See you soon.”

 

            I felt my eyes flutter open, for the second time that day. I was in my bed, tucked under the covers. My head throbbed, and so I immediately pressed my fingers to my temple, the glowing I emitted from them stopping the pain within moments.

            “A neat trick, that one.” Cicero mumbled, and I turned my head toward him. He sat in a chair beside my bed, his arms folded across his chest. He had a black eye, no doubt from Nazir’s attack, but he seemed well-rested aside from the dark mark.

            I pulled the covers back up around my shoulders, basking in the warmth of my own bed. I sighed, “Are you alright?”

            He pursed his lips. “Are _you_ alright?”

            “Of course, dearest.” I said, furrowing my brow.

            He smiled. “Then I am too.” I saw his eyes well up with tears, and he leaned toward me. “Arabella, I am…so sorry. I’ve never been so sorry for anything in my entire life.”

            I tried to shush him, shaking my head, but he wouldn’t hear it.

            “The things I said, I wish I could take them all back. I didn’t mean any of them.”

            “I know that.” I said, offering him a soft smile.

            He didn’t falter. “I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

            I sighed again, staring up at him. “It’s forgiven, Cicero. You weren’t yourself, and it’s over now. Don’t linger.”

            Cicero let a single tear slide down his face. “I’m sorry I’m crazy.”

            My heart surged, watching him wallow in utter defeat. I slid over in my bed, making room for him as I lifted the covers. He hesitated, but he slid beneath the covers, rolling onto his side. He faced away from me, and I wrapped my arm around his abdomen. I pressed my face into his back as he covered my hand with his own.

            “I’m sorry I’m crazy, too.”

            He pulled my hand up to his lips, kissing the palm before he returned it to his side. I smiled, happy that this had passed, that things had returned to normal.

            And I was sorry, because I was crazy. And I knew I was crazy, because just before my eyes shut again, I saw Veezara, looming in the corner of my room, watching over me with a solemn smile on his face.

            But all I wanted was to sleep. So I did.


	14. A Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Codus brings up a concerning question, one that needs a little explanation. Later, Karalissa has some news for Vilkas.
> 
> POV: Karalissa

            I stared down at the table, trying to swallow the wave of nausea that rolled over me again. My mind was working faster than I could comprehend my thoughts, faster than I could react to any of them.

            “Harbinger?”

            I blinked, looking up at Codus, then at Aela. I shook my head. “Sorry, Codus. I’m just…” My voice trailed off again as I tried to understand how I could have missed something like this.

            Aela put her hand on my shoulder. “Tell me how I’m supposed to feel, Lissa.” she noted, a sly smirk on her face. “Are we excited or disappointed?”

            I laughed sharply, shaking my head in disbelief. “We’re…excited? I don’t know, but we’re not disappointed in anything. Other than my obliviousness, that is.”

            Aela gripped both of my shoulders, shaking me playfully. “Yay! See, we’re happy. A little Companion.” She laughed. “The boys are going to lose it.”

            I nodded. “Gods, is Vilkas going to be excited, or—”

            “He’ll be excited.” Aela said, giving me another squeeze. “Our little Lissa is going to be a mother. Oh my gods, _I’m_ excited.”

            Codus cleared his throat. “Apologies, Harbinger. I just…I have a question, but I’m not really sure it’s my place to ask.”

            I furrowed my brow. “Codus, we’re friends. You can ask anything you’d like.”

            His eyes lit up at the word ‘friends’, but his smile fell again a moment after. “Well, I was just wonderin’ what the effects of lycanthropy would be on this particular situation, assumin’ you _are_ pregnant. Does it spread to the child? It _is_ a disease of the blood.”

            My heart dropped, for more than one reason. The first was that I had no idea Codus knew about the beast blood. He’d been a Companion for nearly two years now, and he’d said nothing about it. The second was that I really didn’t know the answer, and it wasn’t something I would inflict upon my child.

            Aela and I exchanged a glance before she cleared her throat. “Um, how long have you known, Codus?”

            He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, since I joined, really. I had suspicions, but after my initiation, I was certain.”

            “How did you figure it out?” I asked, my tone twinging with concern.

            “Honestly, Harbinger, it’s not that hard.” Codus explained, shrugging with one shoulder. “Aela and I retrieved a Totem of Hircine for my initiation, three of the four of you usually stay in when there’s a full moon, and Aela goes on ‘hunting’ trips near constantly. And if that weren’t enough, Vilkas wears armor with a big wolf on the front.”

            Aela and I laughed, but Codus continued. “And, I already knew what the symptoms of lycanthropy were. Honestly, there’s a smell that gives it away.”

            “You’re saying you can smell us?” I asked, sort of offended.

            Aela narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute. What is this?” She leaned toward Codus, who sat across from us at the table. “I already knew that you were an expert on vampires. You proved that when we retrieved the totem. But werewolves, too?” She folded her arms. “What aren’t you telling us?”

            “He’s entitled to his privacy, Aela.” I reminded her, giving Codus a respectful nod.

            He smiled. “I appreciate that, Harbinger, but I think it’s about time you knew this about me.” Codus took a breath, relaxing against his chair. “When I joined, you asked me why I wanted to be a Companion, and I told you it was because I had nowhere else to go. That’s the most honest thing I’ve ever said to you, because it’s true. I have nowhere else. The reason bein’ that I was a vampire for a period of time.”

            “What the hell?” Aela mumbled, her lip curling.

            “See? You’re werewolves. Of course you react like that.” Codus laughed, shaking his head. “I lived with my brother after our parents died, and we were thieves. There was no honor in it, but it seemed to be the only thing we were really good at, so that’s how we survived. My brother wanted to raid a cave, one afternoon, so we did.

            “It was a vampire coven, the cave. Recently havin’ been run out of Morthal and abandoned by their master vampire, Alva’s coven was small. She had a servant, Laelette, and two other thralls who were with her, and as soon as we entered the cave, they attacked. My brother managed to take out the thralls, but he couldn’t best the women because they were just stronger. They took me with them, stole me in the night, because I interested Alva, for whatever reason.”

            Codus cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “They took me to a cave, a different one, and they infected me with Sanguinare Vampiris. It takes three days to become fully implanted in your system, so I spent those days tied to the wall, begging for the disease to spread quicker, because until it’s fully contracted, your blood is still…drinkable.”

            My eyes widened. “They fed off of you while they turned you?”

            Codus smiled crookedly, a smile that wasn’t really a smile at all. Just a shift in his facial features that told me I was correct. He stood from his chair, unbuckling the straps of his leather armor to remove the fabric covering his chest. He exposed his shoulders and abdomen, his Imperial skin tanned and scarred, all of which was covered in dozens of teeth-shaped, semi-circle bite marks. I felt my jaw drop, my heart breaking for Codus as he sat back down in his seat and began to rebuckle his armor.

            “Once the infection reaches the heart, you gain the abilities. You become stronger. You hear hearts beatin’ and blood flowin’ through veins. You can smell emotions, attract prey simply because you look appealin’ to them. Of course, sunlight wasn’t somethin’ I was able to enjoy, but there’s always somethin’. And…the feedin’s, those were not somethin’ I enjoyed.

            “While the vampirism made the taste of blood enjoyable, the actual act of drawin’ it is rather repulsive. The teeth extend and pop though the flesh, and you have to suck the blood from the body. All the while, the victim just…lays there. It’s enough to make my skin crawl now, just thinkin’ about it.

            “Vampires are typically thought of as violent and evil, but such is not the case. The three of us lived rather peacefully for a while. Laelette was barely tolerable, but Alva, though she was vindictive and demandin’, was…kind and beautiful. She was…I don’t know. She was just Alva.”

            “So you were in love with her?” Aela asked bluntly, never wasting time.

            Codus sighed. “It was hard not to be. You become attatched to the one who turns you. There’s somethin’…intimate about it, and that’s how Alva got everyone to do her bidding. Everyone she turned was in love with her, including Laelette, and as our coven grew, it became apparent that simply _everyone_ loved her.

            “She loved me, though.” Codus said, smiling softly. “She was the first, and only, woman I ever loved who loved me back, too. It was a beautiful year, spent with her, regardless of the feedin’s and the blood and the death. That was all ignorable if Alva kept my attention long enough.

            “I couldn’t…couldn’t stay, though. They were turnin’ children to fight for them. No one suspects a child to be a vampire, and they could move about in the night and lure guards out to the field so she could turn them too. It was sick, horrible to watch the children turn. It took them twice as long, and she made us feed, as they did with me. There were dozens of children in our coven. They outnumbered the fully grown vampires six to one, and Alva was their mother. And they did anythin’ for their mother.”

            Codus looked up at us. “I killed her, Alva. And Laelette.” He nodded to himself, chewing the inside of his cheek. “She was preparin’ an army to march on Castle Volkihar. The leader of the Volkihar Clan, Lord Harkon, he would have killed all of us anyway, so why should I let her march us into death? I don’t know what happened to the children. They were lost without Alva, and they all dispersed. I went to Morthal and a priest there healed me, cured me. And then I asked him what fighter’s guild Skyrim had and he suggested the Companions.

            “And so I’m here. And I know almost everythin’ about vampires, and werewolves. The two are very unrelated, I’m sure you know, but I really know about all beast forms, now. But I do want you to know that I haven’t told anyone, about the lycanthropy, and I hope you won’t tell anyone about the vampirism.”

            I nodded to him. “No one has to know, Codus. I’m sorry that all of this has happened to you.”

            “What about your brother?” Aela asked, her voice quiet.

            Codus shook his head. “I didn’t know for a long time, but they drained him. Laelette told me just before I killed her. He’s gone.”

            “I’m sorry, Codus.” Aela said, bowing her head in sympathetic reverence.

            “You have family now, Codus.” I reminded him. “We’re your family.”

            He smiled. “Thank you, Harbinger. I’m sorry that I don’t know enough about lycanthropy to tell you whether or not it will infect your child.”

            I nodded again, more to myself than anyone else. “I’ll have to do some research. Vilkas might know.”

            “Kodlak would have known.” Aela said, looking around the room. “He did so much research before, when he was searching for a cure. I remember Skjor told me something about it, something Kodlak had found about infant werewolves.”

            I bolted up from my chair, horrified at the idea. “Let’s look, then.”

 

            The three of us had spent the majority of the afternoon searching for the information, and eventually, we found it. Kodlak was a smart and organized man, and he kept all of his information about lycanthropy in a locked file his office. When I’d made it my office, I’d moved the things I couldn’t look through to a corner, unable to unlock them. Codus, however, being an ex-thief, could pick locks, and he opened a world of information.

            I stood on the raised porch overlooking the courtyard, leaning against a wooden beam as I watched Vilkas conducting a lesson with the recruits.

            “Now, lift your elbow, Avulstein. There you go.” Vilkas instructed, teaching them how to handle greatswords. Even Athis was in the mix, and he preferred small knives.

            “Fix your footing, Ralof. You’ll get knocked on your ass with your feet so close together.” Vilkas commanded, earning a grunt of annoyance from Ralof, who repositioned his feet thusly.

            Vilkas caught sight of me, and he smiled to himself. “Alright, that’s enough for today. We’ll pick up tomorrow with stance and shoulder movement before we move on to battleaxes.” The group mumbled their thanks to their instructor, and many lingered in the yard to converse and compare stances.

            My husband sulked rather happily toward me, a less-menacing grimace on the lower half of his face. He placed a gloved hand on my arm as he approached me, kissing my cheek.

            “Afternoon, Harbinger.” he said, a playful tone to his voice that told me he was in a good mood today.

            “Good afternoon, Master at Arms. You seem to be rather chipper today. Well, compared to your typical brooding.”

            He grunted, smiling as he shook his head. “It’s a good day, this one. We did a lot of work today, worked through broad and greatswords.” He tapped the book I cradled in my arms, a soft leather journal with ancient scribble within, all Kodlak’s handwriting. “What’s this?”

            “A book. Codus and Aela were helping me with some research after that meeting. Which was so annoying, by the way.”

            Vilkas snorted. “I want to hear all about it.” He leaned against the same wooden column I did, staring up at me. “Are you feeling any better?”

            I smirked. “Actually, yes.” I pushed some of his hair, which was flying wildly in the wind, away from his face. “Want to take a walk with me?”

            He furrowed his brow, concern immediately prominent on his scarred face. “Sure, pup. Is something wrong?”

            “Just the opposite, actually.”

            He shrugged. “Alright.”

            I smiled, bounding down the few steps that led to the ground and walking across the yard and around Jorrvaskr. Vilkas followed closely behind me, and I could feel him watching me, feel his worry and uncertainty, though he didn’t let it show on his face at all.

            I stopped at the steps that led up to Jorrvaskr, inhaling deeply and exhaling loudly. “It’s a beautiful day today.”

            “Aye.” Vilkas agreed, his hand against my back. “The weather is perfect.”

            “It is.” I sighed, then bounced down the steps to the Wind District. “Come on, Villy. Don’t slow me down.”

            He laughed, following behind me as I passed the beautiful tree in the center of the rounded path. I headed past the House of Clan Gray-Mane, following the winding path that led to the House of Clan Battle-Born. Beyond that house, there was a small clearing, an open space with a ledge that looked out over the fields of Whiterun Hold.

            I hopped onto the ledge, letting my legs hang over the side as I looked out at the plains of Skyrim. I turned back to Vilkas, who seemed so content to be here, since this was, as he once told me, his favorite hiding spot.

            “I haven’t been here in a long time.” he noted, leaning against the ledge on his folded arms. He looked up at me. “Remember the last time we were here?”

            “I do.” I said. “If you look hard enough, you can see all of the most important things that have happened to us from right here.”

            “Is that so?” he asked, a smile stretching across his face. “Do explain.”

            “Of course.” I turned slightly, pointing back toward the direction from which we came. “There’s Jorrvaskr.” I said, gesturing toward the wooden dome in the distance. “That’s where we met.”

            “I had no idea.” Vilkas said sarcastically.

            I rolled my eyes, turning to point past Vilkas’ head. “There’s Breezehome. We live there, in case you didn’t know.”

            “Again, no idea.” Vilkas laughed. He placed his hand against my back. “Our home.”

            I pointed out to the edge of the trees, a small clearing where you could see just within the cover of green. “That’s where we stood just before Kodlak’s funeral, after we killed all of the Silver Hand. We had to wear that gods-awful fur armor, remember?”

            Vilkas snorted. “It was itchy. And cold.” He kissed my shoulder. “That was our first kiss, at that fort.”

            I pointed to the field nearer to the lake. “That’s where I asked you to come to Solitude with me to meet Ma.”

            “I remember that.” Vilkas said, wrapping his arm around my torso. “I thought your brother would hate having me along.”

            “And now you’re best friends. Yay!” I pointed North, in no specific manner. “And if you really, really squint, you can see Solitude.”

            Vilkas laughed loudly, a sound that made my heart melt. “Aye, I can see it. Just turn your head to the side, and close one eye. Then close the other eye, and imagine Solitude.”

            I laughed too. “That’s where we admitted that we loved each other.”

            “Took us long enough.” Vilkas grumbled, kissing the back of my neck. “We procrastinate too much.”

            “That we do.”

            He exhaled sharply. “Now, tell me, pup. Why did you bring me all the way up here to show me all of these things?”

            “Because you can see everything from here.” I said simply. “Every part of the story, our story, from beginning to current.”

            Vilkas squeezed me tighter. “It’s a good story.”

            “It is.” I said, turning around on the ledge to face him. “And I think we have to start a new chapter, and this is a good place. So we can really see everything from here.”

            Vilkas furrowed his brow as I hopped down from the ledge, standing before him. “What’s the new chapter?”

            I smiled, shrugging and raising my hands in both defeat and acceptance. “I think I’m pregnant, Villy.”

            Vilkas took a moment to register my words, and then his eyes grew wide. He blinked at me as he began to tear up, and then he smiled, the biggest smile I’ve ever seen him display, and smiles were a rarity for him.

            He wrapped me in a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he laughed. I shook with him as he held me to his chest. “Oh my gods, Kara.”

            I placed my hand against the back of his head, laughing along with him. “So you’re happy?”

            Vilkas straightened up, lifting his head from my shoulder to kiss me. It was a long kiss, deep and passionate, and entirely expressive of the love we had for each other. He nodded as he pulled away from me. “Aye. Very happy.”

            “Then there’s another thing to tell you.” I said as he released me, showing him the book I had been holding. I handed it to him to look at.

            Vilkas flipped through a few pages, furrowing his brow. “This is Kodlak’s handwriting.”

            “It is.” I said, nodding to him. “Codus brought to my attention that lycanthropy is a disease of blood.”

            Vilkas’ head jerked back. “Codus? He knows?”

            “Yes. Long story.” I said, flipping pages for him until I found the one I wanted him to read. “According to Kodlak’s research, lycanthropy has the potential to infect a child if the mother carries the beast blood. It just…spreads.”

            Vilkas’ heart dropped, I could feel it in my own chest. “Kara, we can’t…how can we stop it?”

            I nodded, flipping a few more pages. “Kodlak wondered the same thing.” I pointed to a page. “In his research, he found accounts of mothers curing themselves while carrying the child, and it reversed the effects on the baby.”

            “How can we know if that’s true?”

            “I don’t know Vilkas, but I have to try.” I said, shaking my head. “I won’t risk forcing the curse upon my child, and if there’s a possibility this is the solution, I’ll do it. I’ll cure myself in a heartbeat.”

            “And what if it’s not the solution?” Vilkas asked, closing the book and placing his hand against the side of my face.

             I sighed. “Well, then we’ll have to figure something else out. But according to Kodlak, this was how.” I shrugged. “I wanted to cure myself anyway, just not so soon. But now’s as good a time as any, I suppose.”

            Vilkas nodded. “Alright. Then I’ll cure myself, too. The only reason I still endured was because you did.”

            I smiled at him. “We’ll have to travel to Glenmoril Witch Coven, Vilkas. We need the Hagraven’s heads. And it’s not an easy task, the cure.”

            “We’ll be fine.” Vilkas said, nodding to me. After a moment, he smiled goofily again, a soft laugh in words. “We’re having a baby.”

            “We are.” I said, beaming up at him. “I’m happy, Vilkas. So happy.”

            Vilkas smiled, laughing to himself as he leaned down to kiss me again. “Me too.”


	15. A Bench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassius oversees the set-up for Lydia's seating ceremony. Later, Cassius isn't the only one eavesdropping on Karalissa and Vilkas.
> 
> POV: Cassius

            In the two months that passed since we told Ulfric we would be willing to move to the Palace of Kings so Lydia could be seated as Jarl, we had anticipated moving in much sooner than we did. Ulfric and Galmar had expressed their desire to move to Northshore Castle within the month, but unfortunately for my father and his housecarl, the Castle’s construction was delayed through Evening Star and Morning Star due to the heavy snow the North received.

So that was how we found ourselves at Lydia’s seating ceremony in the middle of Sun’s Dawn. The snow in Windhelm was beginning to melt on the sidewalks, the sun peaking over the gates and shining through the windows as our steward helped Vilkas and Farkas rearrange the throne room to hold several benches, all facing the throne.

            “How many more, Dragonborn?” Gunjar asked. He had been our carriage driver at Lakeview, but I couldn’t rightfully dismiss him because his services were no longer needed. It seemed wrong, and if I was being honest, he told funny jokes. So I promoted him to steward, and invited him to move to the palace with us.

            “Call me Cass, Gunjar.” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. I shifted in the throne, kicking my legs up over the arm of the seat. “How many benches are out there?”

            “Six.” Vilkas called, his hands on his hips.

            I clucked my tongue, thinking about whether we actually needed any more. “Alright, two more. Eight should be plenty.”

            Vilkas pursed his lips. “Oh, of course, Cassius. Whatever you want.”

            “Yeah, Cass. You’re not the Jarl.” Farkas yelled, a smile on his face. “Get off the throne and help.”

            I laughed, hopping out of my wife’s seat and bounding down the steps toward them. “Alright, alright.” I patted Vilkas on the back as I passed him. “Don’t get all worked up, Pa.”

            Vilkas smirked, shaking his head as I joined them in the task of carrying two more benches into the room. I sort of felt bad, as I helped, because they were heavy, and I had just been sitting in the throne and instructing.

            Once the first was placed, we began to carry the last bench into the room. Farkas and I lifted one side, while Gunjar and Vilkas backed the bench toward its place. Halfway across the room, Aela popped out of nowhere, hopping up to sit on the bench we were carrying. She crossed her legs, folding her hands behind her head and pretending not to notice we were carrying it.

            “Oh please, huntress. Make yourself comfortable.” Vilkas grumbled, scowling at Aela.

            Aela looked over to him, a sly smile on her face. “Oh, well if you insist, Villy.” She laid back on the bench, crossing her legs at the ankles and relaxing entirely as we carried the bench the rest of the way.

            “Don’t call me that.” Vilkas mumbled, his eye twitching. A few more steps, and we had set the bench in its place, and Farkas leaned down to scoop Aela up off of the bench and set her on her feet beside him.

            I sighed. “Take a break, Gunjar. We’ll have more setting up to do in a little while, but this was the brunt of it. Do whatever it is you do when I’m not looking.”

            “Of course, Dragonborn. Thank you.” Gunjar bowed his head before he left the room.

            I turned to Aela. “Any idea where my wife is?”

            “None.” she replied, shaking her head. “I haven’t been in the palace, actually. Roomy in here.” She spread her arms out, twisting at the hips to look around.

            “Where have you been, then?” Vilkas asked, his upper lip still curled up in a scowl.

            Aela shrugged. “Outside. I was trying to figure out how to get up onto the roof, but I couldn’t find any good leverage.”

            “Why did you need to be on the roof?” I inquired, an eyebrow raised.

            “Oh, I wanted to know how far I could see from up there.” she said simply, as if it were an excuse for climbing the roof.

            Farkas’ eyes widened. “I bet I could just lift you.”

            “Don’t climb the roof.” I said, shaking my head at them.

            Aela snickered, a very specific laugh that told me she would never do what I said. “ _You’re_ not the Jarl.” With that, she turned on her heal, pulling Farkas with her as she exited through the front door.

            I couldn’t suppress a laugh as the door shut behind them, shaking my head as I turned back to Vilkas. “They’re going to get themselves hurt, one of these days.”

            He just sighed. “Aye. It’ll be their own fault.” He rolled his eyes. “A while ago, Kara gave them the key to our house so they could use the firepit to do an experiment. Said they wanted to know what charred fruit tasted like. They wasted all of the fruit in the kitchen and Farkas set the bookcase on fire.”

            “They’re so weird.” I mumbled, sighing as I turned toward the living quarters. “Karl should have known better than to trust them with the house.”

            Vilkas laughed quietly. “She’s far too trusting. She lost several books, but she didn’t seem to mind nearly as much as I did. She loves them too much.”

            “That’s Karalissa for you.” I said, and earning another quiet laugh from Vilkas. He knew just as well as I did that Karalissa was just a trusting person. My sister on my mind, I glanced over my shoulder at Vilkas. “Have the two of you done any more research?”

            Vilkas sighed, pursing his lips in dissatisfaction. “We’ve done a lot of research, but we’re not finding any other way to fix it other than to just travel to the Tomb of Ysgramor.”

            I nodded, though I didn’t understand why they were so hesitant to cure their lycanthropy. At Karalissa’s birthday party a few years back, they had both openly expressed their desire to rid themselves of the beast blood. Now that they actually had to, or at least Karalissa did, they were so on edge, searching for any other way to cure only their child, and not themselves.

            Trying to ease my way out of what seemed to be a touchy subject for them right now, I smirked at Vilkas. “You know, I met Ysgramor once.”

            He furrowed his brow at me as I held the door to the living quarters open for him. “What are you talking about?”

            “In Sovngarde.” I explained. “When I traveled to Sovngarde to defeat Alduin, it was Ysgramor who introduced me to the Heroes of Old.”

            Vilkas’ eyes widened. “You’re kidding.” His face lit up, so intrigued by the comment. “What was he like?”

            I sighed. “Really tall. He seemed to be a very kind man. Noble. Valiant.”

            Vilkas shook his head as he turned the corner to the kitchen. “Amazing.” He looked over to Karalissa as he entered. “Kara, are you hearing this?”

            Karalissa, who adorned dark circles beneath happy eyes, looked up from her conversation with Lyd as we entered. “Hearing what, Villy?”

            “Your brother met Ysgramor in Sovngarde.”

            Karl’s eyes widened, a smile stretching across her face. “By the Nine, brother. Why didn’t you tell us before?”

            I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’d forgotten. I only spoke to him for a very brief amount of time.”

            “You _spoke_ to Ysgramor?” Vilkas asked, following suit as I sat down across from him at the table in the center of the room.

            Lydia laughed as Karalissa hopped out of her seat, bouncing toward us and plopping into the seat beside Vilkas. She placed a hand on her stomach, which now showed beneath a thick, green sweater. “I want to know everything, Cass. What did he look like?”

            Vilkas nodded. “What did he say to you?”

            “What did his voice sound like?” Karl continued, her brows raised in anticipation.

            Lydia laughed again, shaking her head as she joined us at the table, too. I grinned, rolling my eyes as I launched into the tale. “Alright, so you all know that I rode a dragon to Skuldofn, endured the battle with the creatures guarding the portal, then I ascended to Sovngarde.”

            Karalissa sighed. “Yes, but tell us about Sovngarde again, too. I love this part.”

            I nodded, smiling at the fact that this was how my sister had always been. She could listen to the same story over and over again and never get bored. “The skies in Sovngarde were…the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen. A dark purple dusted with pinks and teals, the sky itself sort of funneled toward a bright light that cast over the entire realm. There was a deep, cold mist that levitated over the ground, but through the fog you could see field after field. There were these great statues, monuments of honorable Nords that guarded the path and peered down at you all the way to Tsun.

            “I knew a shout to clear the mist, still know it I suppose, and that helped me find the path to Tsun. You know this part, too, about how I claimed right of birth to enter the Hall of Valor, then battled Tsun to prove my worth. Once I actually entered the Hall of Valor, it was Ysgramor that greeted me. He was a tall, blond Nord with a beard just as thick as his accent. He said that all of the warriors of the hall had sheathed their weapons and not ventured out since Alduin set his soul snare in Sovngarde, knowing that stepping into the mist was a death sentence.

            “Then, he showed me to the Heroes of Old, and I didn’t see him again after that. Tsun promised me entrance into the Hall of Valor again when I die, so I know my path will cross with his again in years to come.” I smiled at my sister and her husband, who stared back at me with wide eyes.

            “Wow.” Karalissa mumbled. “You met Ysgramor.”

            “What is the Hall of Valor like, Cass?” Vilkas asked, placing his hand on Karalissa’s back.

            “It’s beautiful.” I said simply. “I won’t do it justice by describing it, so I won’t. I dream about it often.”

            “Sovngarde.” Vilkas said quietly, looking down at my sister beside him.

            She smiled at him. “It will be wonderful.” Her smile faded moments after, and she looked away from Vilkas and down at the table. He, too, looked away from her, but kept his hand against her back.

            Finally, after months of not asking, I did. “What the hell is with you two?” Lydia nudged me, but I continued. “Karalissa, I thought Sovngarde was what you wanted. I know it’s what Vilkas wants, so what’s the big deal? Why the hesitation?”

            Karalissa looked back at Vilkas for a moment, who only nodded, as if to say he wanted her to tell me. Then, she sighed. “I feel…guilty.”

            “Guilty?” I asked, jerking my head back in surprise. “Guilty for what? For being pregnant?”

            “No, of course not.” she explained. “I’m very excited to be pregnant. We both are. It’s just…I feel guilty because I’ve taken everything from Skjor.”

            Vilkas pursed his lips. “You’re blaming yourself for something that happened years ago, Kara. Something that was never your fault to begin with.”

            “I took his life from him, which is bad enough. But I took his pack from him, too.”

            “Kodlak wanted Sovngarde.” Vilkas said to her, his voice reassuring as he put a hand against the side of her face. “You know that better than any of us.”

            “But what about the rest of you, Vilkas?” Karalissa asked, tears springing to her eyes. “If I cure myself, you’ll cure yourself too. And if you cure yourself, Farkas won’t want to keep the blood either. And that leaves Aela, and she loves Farkas. She may cure herself, too.”

            “The blood is different for Aela.” Vilkas said to her. “It’s a part of her in a way it is not a part of us. She won’t cure herself.”

            “And what will that do to Farkas?” she countered. “I can’t do anything without hurting someone else.”

            “So what do you want me to do then, Kara? Do you want me to remain cursed?” Vilkas asked, raising his voice slightly.

            “No, Vilkas. Of course I don’t. I want to go to Sovngarde with you. I want to spend my afterlife with you and our children, and my brother and Lydia and their children. With Kodlak.”

            “Then I don’t see why this matters so much to you.” Vilkas said. “If this is what you want, then why does it matter?”

            “Because Skjor matters too!” Karalissa said, her brows furrowing. “I’m making a decision for six people, not just one.”

            “And what about our child?” Vilkas asked her, his voice softening as he placed his hand over her stomach. “Do you want our child to endure what we have? To feel the pain we’ve felt? To struggle to control what we hardly can?”

            “Of course not, Vilkas.”

            He wiped tears away from her cheeks with his other hand. “You worry too much, my love. You think about how your decision with impact everyone else.” Vilkas left his hand against her face. “But what about you? Think about just yourself and what you want.”

            “That seems selfish.” my sister said softly, staring up at Vilkas with sad eyes.

            He laughed quietly. “So, be selfish for once. It’s time to think about yourself.”

            “But what about you?” she asked him.

            “I’ll go where you go, Kara. We all will. You know that.”

            “And what about Farkas? And Aela? They’re family, Vilkas.”

            He nodded. “I know. But they’re entitled to make their own decisions. You’re taking a step that may influence them, but ultimately, they have to decide for themselves.”

            “He’s right, Karl.” I said, trying to both agree with Vilkas and remind them that Lydia and I were sitting right there. They both sort of jumped, as if they’d forgotten our existence. “And you already know all of this. Why do you keep hesitating?”

            Karalissa sighed. “I don’t know, brother. I just—”

            “You just think too much.” Vilkas finished for her. “I love my brother, Kara, and I love Aela, just as you do. But this is affecting our child now. A decision has to be made.”

            “And what if I can’t be the one to make it?” she asked him, her tone challenging. Lydia and I exchanged a glance. In all the years we’d known Karalissa and Vilkas as a couple, we’d never seen them like this. They were so against each other, and so close at the same time.

            Vilkas grunted, setting his jaw. “You _will_ be the one to make that decision. And you have to decide soon.”

            “I _can’t_ , Vilkas. I _can’t_ make a decision like this.”

            “You _have_ to, Kara! We’re running out of time!”

            Across the hall, Catriona stirred from her nap, crying for one of us to come pick her up. Lydia and I both stood, eager for an excuse to leave the room. Karalissa jumped at the sound, then looked up at me. “I’m sorry, brother. I didn’t mean to—”

            “It’s fine, Karl.” I assured, smiling down at her. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

            She nodded, looking down at the table as Lydia and I strode quickly from the room. We walked straight across the hall to Cat’s room, leaving the door open so I could continue to eavesdrop on their discussion. As she picked up our baby, Lydia mouthed the words ‘holy shit’ to me, shaking her head. We both turned toward the kitchen, out of sight but not out of earshot.

            “I just can’t do it, Vilkas. I can’t take the choice from everyone. I can’t take their afterlives for myself.” Karalissa whispered harshly.

            “They know the situation, Kara. They understand.” Vilkas shifted audibly in his seat, likely turning to face her. “Aela is the one who made the discovery with you. I just spoke to Farkas about Sovngarde yesterday. They know that we want to cure ourselves.”

            “They know what _we_ want. We don’t know what _they_ want.”

            Vilkas sighed. “Tell me what _you_ want. Don’t think about Aela or Farkas or Skjor or me or the child. Tell me what _you_ want.”

            “It’s not that simple, Vilkas.” my sister muttered. “There’s more to consider than just—”

            “Ysmir’s beard, Kara. Stop being difficult and tell me what you want.”

            Karalissa huffed. “I want to have a long, boring, stupid, happy life with you and our children, and then I want to die.”

            “And when you die, where do you want to go?”

            “Sovngarde.”

            Vilkas clapped his hands. “Then that’s it! That’s what we’re doing!”

            “You’re not listening to me, Vilkas.” Karalissa whispered. “I don’t care about what I want. I care about what they want, Farkas and Aela.”

            I leaned against the doorframe as Lydia soothed our crying baby, staring in the general direction of their voices. I noticed, then, that Aela and Farkas were standing in the hall, too. They stood apart from each other, Farkas leaning against the wall and Aela standing closer to the kitchen. Their brows were furrowed, listening intently to what Vilkas and Karalissa were saying, just as I was.

            “And they care about what you want too, Kara. And I care about what they want. I love my brother, Kara, and I would do anything for him. Aela is a sister to me, and she has been for many years.” Vilkas was quiet for a moment. “But I’m only thinking about the baby, pup. I’m thinking about how to protect our child from a fate we should have never chosen. A fate we indirectly chose for our child. A fate that we can change if you decide to.”

            “Why do I have to be the one to make it?” Karalissa asked, her voice even quieter than it was before.

            “Because I’ve already decided.” Vilkas said simply. “Everyone has decided but you.”

            Karalissa was silent, lost in her own thoughts. I watched as Aela and Farkas exchanged a glance, their expressions riddled with both sadness and confusion, making it obvious that they’d never thought about it themselves.

            “Okay.” Karalissa finally said. “But I want to talk to them, first. I want to know what they want before I decide.”

            Aela’s face fell at Karalissa’s words, and she grabbed Farkas’ hand and pulled him from the hall. Farkas offered me a shrug before he followed behind her.

            “We’ll talk to them tomorrow, then.” Vilkas said conclusively.

            Karalissa was quiet for a second, and then she responded. “Alright."


	16. A Pet Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arabella receives a contract, and she travels with Cicero to speak with the High King of Skyrim at Northshore Castle.
> 
> POV: Arabella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, lads and lassies.  
> First, I wanted to thank everyone for pushing both Blood's Honor and Before the Storm to two hundred hits!! I'm so pumped about this, you guys don't even understand. Thank you for reading and writing comments and interacting with me.
> 
> Now, I also wanted to thank you all for enduring the very long first fourteen chapters. Before I got into the grit of the story, I had to mend Ulfric's relationship with Cass and Kara and make sure everyone really knew Arabella and Cicero, because the majority of the story from here on out revolves around the three of them. Of course, I'll still be alternating POV from Arabella to Karalissa to Cassius, but a lot of the action will happen in Arabella's chapters.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy reading! Here's the fic:

            Cicero pressed his lips against my cheek, pulling me from my sleep and into consciousness. I smiled at him, and he beamed down from where he stood above me. I noted that he adorned a very specific lack of piercings, his hair combed into submission and his clothes neat and tidy.

            “Morning, beautiful.” he said, straightening his tunic as he turned toward the wardrobe of our bedroom. He pulled the doors open, pushing the clothes from side to side as he searched for an outfit. After a moment, he pulled a soft, blue dress out and held it out for me. “Wear this one today? You look nice in blue.”

            I grinned as he sat on the edge of the bed beside me, and he tucked some of my loose bed hair behind my ear as I sat up. He seemed so happy, so genuinely enthused by nothing at all, and it was contagious. His red hair was a great contrast against the wooden walls of the room, which smelled of peppermint and hickory.

            “You’re awfully chipper this morning.” I noted, kissing his freckled cheek.

            He smirked, running the tip of his finger along the edge of my jaw. “I suppose so. The kids are up, trying to cook breakfast for us, or so they claim. The kitchen is a disaster, just so you know.”

            “I appreciate the forewarning.” I said, shaking my head. I looked at him for a moment, my smile everlasting as he stared back in content.

            “I’m happy, Arabella.” he said, leaving his hand against the side of my face. “So happy.”

            “I am, too.” I said, my heart surging at his words.

            A loud crash caused me to bolt upright in bed, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit, stone room. I set my feet on the floor, pushing the covers away from my body and striding toward my bedroom door.

            As I opened it, I saw Thomas scrambling to pick up a weapons rack in the training room at the end of the hall. I furrowed my brow. “Awfully early to need a weapon, isn’t it brother?”

            Thomas straightened as I spoke, stepping in front of the rack. “My apologies, Listener. The Keeper promised to train with me this morning, but he seems to be…uh, late.”

            I nodded, grabbing my dark cloak from the table beside my door and wrapping it around my shoulders before walking down the hall to Cicero’s door. I knocked, but after no answer, I opened the door and stepped inside.

            Cicero was sprawled in his bed in a sort of comical manner. His head hung off the edge, one arm beneath the side of his face and the other above his head. He snored loudly, his mouth hanging open, but otherwise, he seemed so peaceful. I almost didn’t want to wake him, but the sound of Thomas fiddling with weapons in the training room set my jaw on edge.

            I strode toward the sleeping Keeper, resting on my knees near his head. I cocked my own head to the side, admiring the piercings in his ear and the large shave in his head. He was such an odd man, peculiar in every sense of the word, but I loved it so.

            I grazed the same freckled cheek from my dream with my fingertips, causing his face to twitch beneath my touch. “Cicero.” I whispered, placing my hand on his chest and shaking him lightly.

            His eyes opened slightly, really just one, and he stared at me in confusion for a moment. He smiled crookedly. “A nice sight to wake up to.” he mumbled, shutting his eyes again.

            I rolled my eyes, tapping his forehead with my index finger. “Time to rise, Keeper. Thomas says that you’ve promised to train with him this morning.”

            Cicero grunted. “What time is it?”

            “I have no idea.” I assured him. “Early enough that Thomas is out in the practice area knocking over the weapon rack every thirty-two seconds.”

            Cicero sighed, rubbing his face. “I have a proposition.” he said, squinting at me with sleepy eyes. “How about we don’t be the Keeper or the Listener today?”

            I raised an eyebrow quizzically. “An interesting proposition, indeed. You wish to renounce your title?”

            “Just for today.” he said, pulling his blanket up over his shoulder. “Just climb into bed, Arabella. We can literally sleep all day.”

            “Thomas is waiting for you, love.” I reminded him, scratching his back.

            He groaned. “If I’m being honest, I don’t like him that much. I’d really rather not.”

            “An awful thing for the Keeper to say, really. And especially to me.” I patted his back in a slow rhythm. “That’s like telling your mother her cooking is bad.”

            “Well, I’m not the Keeper today.” he grumbled, covering his face with the covers. “I’m just Cicero, a man who would rather sleep with a pretty woman on his shoulder than train with an annoying Nord.” He reached for me, grazing my arm with his fingers. “Five minutes of no work. That’s all I want.”

            I laughed, shaking my head. “I wish I could give you that, my dear.”

            Cicero groaned, sitting up in bed. “Fine, I’ll train with him. But once it’s over, I’m getting back in bed.”

            “You have every right to.” I said, standing from the ground. I looked down at Cicero, his hair scraggly and sticking up in all directions. “Maybe tomorrow we won’t work. We can just have a day to do nothing.”

            Cicero smiled. “I’d like that.” He yawned, shaking his head and stretching his arms out. “I can’t promise I’ll be exuberant with him, though. Twenty minutes and I’m done.”

            I snorted, shaking my head as he pulled himself out of bed and pulled his boots on. He usually slept in the pants of his jester’s motley, so he did very little to get ready in the morning. Slipping into his coat and wiggling into his gloves, Cicero stretched again, his back popping as he did.

            As he approached me, I ran my hands through his messy hair, brushing through it with my fingers. I reached to the dresser behind me, lifting his jester’s cap up and securing it against the crown of his head. Cicero smiled, kissing my forehead before he strode from the room, pulling his dagger from his boot and twirling it in his hand, as he always did.

            I sighed as I left the room too, following behind Cicero into the training room, where he greeted Thomas unenthusiastically. I passed the two of them and climbed the stairs that wound up to the eating area, hoping to find something hot to drink.

            Nazir sat at the table in the middle of the eating area, sipping a mug of coffee and reading a newspaper. He raised an eyebrow at me as I passed him. “You’re up early.”

            “Unfortunately.” I noted, nodding a ‘good morning’ to him. I pointed to the mug in his hand. “Any of that left?”

            He nodded toward the firepit in the corner, his gaze returning to his paper. I strode toward the cabinet behind him, taking a mug and filling it with hot, bitter coffee.

            “This may interest you.” Nazir’s deep, baritone voice said from behind me. “‘Lydia Battle-Maiden to be seated as Jarl of Windhelm on the sixth of Sun’s Dawn. Ulfric Stormcloak has high hopes for the young woman, who fought alongside the High King in the Rebellion, which ended in 4E 203.’”

            I snorted, taking a hesitant sip of the coffee in my hand. “I could have slit that woman’s throat. That does, in fact, interest me, Nazir.”

            “Want the clipping?” he asked, extending the paper to me.

            I shook my head, walking back toward the stairs. “Thank you for sharing, though.”

            As I descended the stairs again, passing by Cicero and Thomas, who had engaged in yet another dagger training session. Cicero gave me a wink as I passed them, which I rolled my eyes at and continued down the hallway to my room.

            Shutting the door behind me again, I sighed as I took a long swig of the coffee in my hand. I shook my head, laughing to myself at the idea of the Dragonborn’s wife being the Jarl of Windhelm.

            “What’s so funny?” Veezara asked, leaning back in the chair in the corner, his feet propped up on the surface of my desk. He smirked, looking back at me as I walked toward him.

            “Lydia Battle-Maiden is the Jarl of Windhelm, as of today.” I explained, nudging Veezara’s feet to get them off of my desk. “Out of my chair.”

            He stood, laughing quietly as I sat in the seat, which wasn’t warm, as I had expected it to be. He leaned against the wall beside me, watching as I set the mug on the corner of the desk.

            “Is that the woman you nearly killed a few months ago?”

            “On contract, yes.” I confirmed. “The Dragonborn’s wife.”

            Veezara shrugged to himself. “Battle-Maiden is sort of a stupid name.”

            “That’s exactly what I was just thinking.” I agreed, laughing along with him.

            “Did you ever figure out how the Dragonborn was connected to your brothers?” Veezara inquired, his voice calm and casual as always.

            “Shouldn’t you already know this?” I asked, but he simply shrugged. Since I began to see Veezara, I knew I was utterly mad. Even though months had passed, I hadn’t spoken a word about it to anyone, not keen on the idea of everyone knowing how crazy I actually was.

            Even still, I enjoyed his company. I often grew lonely, even when surrounded by my friends and family, which was immediately alleviated when Veezara returned to my life. Before Falkreath burned, he had been my dearest friend, a companion that I simply couldn’t do without, and that’s what had perpetuated the madness I endured before a few months ago. And though I knew that this was twice as mad, to hallucinate and carry on conversation with someone who was long dead, it was comforting, in a way, to have him around.

            “It’s your mind, Arabella. I don’t know how it works.” Veezara reminded me. “What was the connection?”

            “The Dragonborn is the brother of Vilkas’ wife.” I explained to him. “They’re brothers-in-law.”

            “I never understood that expression.” Veezara noted, furrowing his brow line. “There’s no law saying that you have to bind yourselves to the siblings of your spouse.”

            “I’m sure there is somewhere.” I said, pulling scrolls from the bottom drawer of my desk. “Besides, you marry someone, you marry their family, too.”

            “An interesting perspective.” Veezara said. “Following that logic, does that mean, by extension, the Dragonborn is your brother too?”

            “You know, I actually hadn’t thought about that.” I admitted, dipping my quill into ink as I began to write. “I think that makes Karalissa my sister, but not the Dragonborn, Cassius.”

            “Why wouldn’t he be your brother, then?”

            “I don’t know. He didn’t marry Vilkas.”

            Veezara laughed. “Alright, then what about Farkas? He calls Cassius his brother, but he’s about as connected to the Dragonborn as you are.”

            “You’re confusing me.” I said, smirking at him.

            “You’re confusing yourself.” Veezara countered, pushing off of the wall and peering over my shoulder at the scroll. “What are you writing?”

            At that moment, Cicero bounded into the room, not bothering to knock before he pushed to door open and shut it behind him. He pulled his hat off, setting it on my shelf along with his gloves and boots, then he removed his coat and hung it on the wall near the door. Without so much as a word to me, he walked across the room and climbed into my bed.

            After he was snug beneath the covers, he looked over at me. “Can I sleep in here?”

            “Well, how considerate of you to ask before making yourself comfortable.” I said with a laugh. “Why do you even have your own bedroom? You always seem to end up in mine.”

            “I like my privacy.” Cicero grumbled, yawning again as he rolled back toward the wall, facing away from me.

            “Oh, but my privacy is out of the question.” I said rolling my eyes. Veezara laughed behind me, remaining quiet and unseen by anyone but me.

            “You have nothing to hide.” Cicero countered, his voice quiet.

            “And you do?”

            He laughed from across the room, the sound barely audible. “Not yet, but I could.”

            “All I’m saying is it’s a waste of resources.” I offered, raising an eyebrow, though he couldn’t see it.

            “Are you suggesting we move in together?”

            “No.” I said simply, smirking at the thought.

            I could hear the smile in his voice. “Then do you want me to leave?”

            “No.”

            He looked over his shoulder at me, his own eyebrow raised. “Then leave me be, Arabella.” He rolled over again.

            “Whatever you say.” I concluded, shaking my head as I looked down at my desk again.

            _Daughter, approach me._

            I stood from my chair, Cicero’s eyes on me as I obediently left my room, not bothering to shut the door behind me. I climbed the stairs for a second time, moving toward the forge. Once inside, I made eye contact with Nazir, who simply nodded and straightened his back, acting casual yet standing guard so I could slip through the fireplace.

            Placing my hands on the doors, I waited to the count of seven, as I always did. On the sixth count, Cicero rounded the corner, placing his hat on his head as he entered the forge and shut the doors behind us.

            I lowered myself to kneel before the forge, waiting a moment more to crawl through the false back panel, then traveling down the hall as Cicero replaced it. I waved my hand, a ball of light appearing above my head to illuminate the path, down the stairs and to the left, approaching the door with three locks.

            Cicero placed his key in the correct lock, twisting it and letting the door swing wide so the two of us could walk in together. I approached the coffin, bowing my head in revered silence as Cicero moved about the room to light candles.

            _Ah, my children approach, and with such light hearts. They will become lighter, still, as the times continue to change for the Dark Brotherhood._

            I furrowed my brow, unsure if I should respond. After a moment, I decided to. “What sort of change do you imply, Mother?”

            _Another child has prayed to their mother. Another soul has been directed to the Dread Lord. Another contract awaits your blade._

            “Am I not to deal this contract to another assassin?”

            _The honor belongs to you, my dear Listener. The target is yours, and yours alone, in so many different ways._

            I made a face at the comment, unable to mask my confusion any longer. “I don’t understand, Mother. What is so special about this contract?” I heard Cicero shift behind me, growing impatient.

            _This contract holds weight in Skyrim, a person of power. A scenario you’re familiar with, my child._

            I jerked my head back, lifting my head to look up at the coffin for a moment before returning it to a bow. “Do you mean that this contract is similar to…the series of contracts dealt to us by Amaund Motierre?”

            _Yes, and such is a delicate task, as I’m sure you’re aware. Another series of contracts to feed the flames of the Void, and fund the expansion of the Dark Brotherhood. With numerous contracts comes numerous witnesses, of course, numerous loose ends. Protect your family, and bring them the fortune that awaits._

            “Of course, Mother.” I said, nodding to her. “Who shall I travel to speak with?”

            _Speak with the High King of Skyrim, at Northshore Palace._

            I felt my eyes widen, and I lifted my head to stare up at the coffin in awe. “A-As you will it, Mother.” I stammered, my mind racing as I tried to connect the pieces. I blinked, staring at nowhere in particular, trying to organize my thoughts.

            I felt Cicero’s hand against my back. “What is it, Listener? What did Mother say?”

            I looked up at him, my brow furrowed. “I don’t think we’ll get that day off, Cicero.”

 

 

            It was cold, freezing actually, so far North. The High King’s castle wasn’t far from Dawnstar, perhaps an hour and a half’s carriage ride, but Cicero and I had opted to travel by foot. As we trekked through the snow, Cicero grumbled.

            “My boots are wet.” he muttered, his jaw set.

            I heard myself laugh, unable to stop it. “That’s what happens in the snow, love.”

            He sighed. “But my feet are wet, too.”

            “Yes. It’s called ‘melted snow’. A recent phenomena that’s being researched by top scholars at this very moment.” I said sarcastically, glancing up at him. “If you had put on the armored boots, as I _suggested_ …” I gestured to my own boots, matching my shrouded armor, identical to his.

            Cicero laughed, shaking his head. “Listen, babe. I don’t _do_ armored boots. I like _my_ boots.”

            I snorted, jerking my head back. “Did you just call me ‘babe’?”

            He shrugged, smiling crookedly. “Sure did.”

            “Why?” I asked, a laugh in my voice.

            “You call me a bunch of pet names. I picked one for you.”

            “But why ‘babe’?”

            Cicero shrugged again. “Because you’re tiny. And you’re cute.” He nudged me with his elbow. “I won’t do it again, if you’d prefer.”

            I shook my head, smiling at him. “No, no. I like it. I just wasn’t expecting that.” I reached for his hand, entwining my fingers with his. “Sorry about your boots. Maybe next time, you should listen to me.”

            Cicero smiled too, squeezing my hand before releasing it. “I’ll keep that in mind, babe.”

            We pulled our cowls over our heads as Northshore Castle came into view, remaining silent as we strode across the fields of snow. My head bent back as I stared up at the size of the castle. It wasn’t as large as I anticipated it being. It was a simple castle, small and gray, framed by the blue sky above us.

            It was then that Cicero noticed the evident lack of guards, something we’d expected. Cicero stopped me, extending his arm to place in front of me, both signaling me not to move and blocking me from anything that could do me harm.

            “I don’t like this, Arabella. There should be guards.”

            I shook my head. “I doubt the High King wants his officers knowing he has a dead body in his basement.” I assured him. The act of actually performing the Black Sacrament took a lot of resources and energy. It took days to complete, and some of the steps, which included stabbing a human heart repeatedly, could be seen as offensive, to say the least.

            “The High King of Skyrim is going to allow himself to be entirely unguarded when assassins come to his castle?”

            “You have a point, dearest.” I assured him. “But Mother didn’t say we had anything to worry about. I trust her.”

            Cicero considered that, then lowered his arm. “I trust Mother, too.” With that, we proceeded to enter the castle, going purely on instinct. I noticed Cicero place his hand on the handle of his dagger, which was hitched to his hip.

            Inside, the castle seemed much larger than the outside let on. The walls were draped with Stormcloak-blue flags, adorned with bears in a soft yellow color. Within, an older man waited on the throne at the back of the room. He straightened as we entered, his eyes wide and his lips pursed beneath a long beard. He wore the furs of a bear, covering all but his muscular arms and his face, the bear’s face a het on the top of his head.

            He stood from his throne, and though he wasn’t the High King, I was immediately intimidated by him. He didn’t seem outwardly cruel, and he actually seemed rather afraid of us, as most contacts did. It was a feeling, one that I had in the deepest parts of my bones, a feeling that told me that if we crossed the High King, he could kill us faster than we thought possible. I tensed, unsettled by the man with a bloodlust in his fearful eyes.

            He said nothing, only nodded for us to follow him. He brought us to a door off to the side of the large entry room, opening it and holding it open for us to file down the stairs. The room was dark, no visible light extending from anywhere, only fueling the fear I felt even further.

            I wasn’t sure why I was scared. In my years with the Brotherhood, I’d met with some shady people and traveled to terrifying places at the Night Mother’s request. This place shouldn’t have scared me at all, simply because I knew, in my heart, that Cicero and I could escape or defend ourselves if we needed to. Hell, I didn’t even need to lift a weapon to protect myself anymore. But being in pitch-black darkness, guided only by a man who I knew in the deepest parts of my soul could kill me if he needed to, it was unsettling.

            I knew Cicero felt that I was uncomfortable, and he placed a gloved hand on my back, unseen in the darkness. The sound of a match striking ahead of us caused our heads to snap in the direction, where the man was visible once again. Lighting a candle that he held in his hand, he nodded for us to continue along with him. He brought us to a door at the very back of the room, where light stretched from under the door and just barely extended to the floor we stood on.

            The man opened the door, exposing the remnants of the Black Sacrament. Candles were lit in a circle in the center of the floor, encircling the various items needed to summon the Night Mother’s attention: a body, a human heart, Nightshade, and a blade. The blade was a shimmering shade of sanguine, the blood on the tip dried and placed delicately next to the repeatedly punctured heart. In the corner of the room, a blond Nord sat against the wall, his arms propped up on bent knees. His hands were an identical shade of crimson to the blood that splattered against the floor, and I could see the exhaustion on his face.

            He moved to stand, but I lifted a hand, signaling to him that he didn’t have to. “Your formality isn’t necessary.” I said simply. “The act of performing the Black Sacrament is exhausting, and I know you’ve just done it recently.”

            The blond Nord chuckled to himself, the sound deep and dark, but he stood anyway. “Formality, though deemed unnecessary, is something I plan to extend anyway.” He folded his arms, covering his bloody hands. “I appreciate the swiftness of your arrival. I heard whispers that implied the Black Sacrament often takes many days.”

            “Months, in times past.” I noted, feeling much better at this point. The man who frightened me still loomed in the doorway behind us, but it became apparent that he lived to serve the blond, and wouldn’t do anything unless he was told.

            “Then, it would seem I have become fortunate.” the blond said, a smirk surrounding his baritone voice. “Fortune, as I’m sure you know, has two very different definitions that are also quite similar. For this situation, they both apply. Fortune can mean chance, or luck. An external force of fate that affects human affairs. In this case, a malicious act of fortune has brought you to me, to hear what I have to say. The other definition of fortune is a very large amount of money, which I can assure you I will provide if my contract is accepted.”

            I raised an eyebrow, listening to Cicero’s low laugh. “The High King of Skyrim performs the Black Sacrament to give a lecture in literature to two lowly assassins.” Cicero muttered. “Do you know the definition of ‘vexatious’, King?”

            The King laughed. “I do, in fact. I admire the sentiment.” His gaze returned to me. “I gather that you’re in charge here, since your companion seems to act a lot like my housecarl.” He gestured to the man in the doorframe. “So to-the-point. Never relishes the theater, the glory of a grand scene.”

            “And are we your ‘grand scene’, Ulfric Stormcloak? The High King summons two, as my comrade has stated, lowly assassins to do his bidding for him?” I extended my hand to mock inspection of my cuticles, as Astrid often did when she wanted to seem intimidating. “You’ve killed plenty of people in your time, or so the legend has it. You didn’t even have to lift a blade to kill Dead King Torryg, so why have you summoned the Night Mother’s children?”

            “Incredibly perceptive.” Ulfric noted, a smirk on his face. He reached into his coat and pulled a scroll from an inner pocket, extending it to me. I took it, unrolling it to reveal a list of names. I did a quick count, and found that there were five, two of which had stars beside them.

            _Ondolemar-Markarth_

_Estormo-College of Winterhold_

_Viarmo-Bard’s College*_

_Rulindil-Thalmor Embassy_

_Elenwen-Thalmor Embassy*_

            “You’ve done research on the Dark Brotherhood, I assume.” I said to him, looking up from the scroll. My face was sweating beneath my cowl, the dark fabric sticking to my mouth and cheeks as I spoke.

            “I have. Extensive research.”

            I raised an eyebrow, lowering the scroll and tilting my head back. “Then I’m sure you’re aware of the fact that this is going to cost a lot of coin.” I reminded him.

            “I’m well aware, I assure you.” Ulfric said, folding his arms again. “One of my resources was involved with the contract set on the Emperor’s head, which was intricate and involved, much as my contract is.” He smirked. “Name the price for that.”

            “The Emperor’s life, and the lives of the other contracts, cost twenty thousand septims.”

            Ulfric laughed. “Rather low, if you ask me. I’ll triple that.”

            I felt my chest hitch. Sixty thousand septims? I would have asked if he was joking, but the seriousness in his eyes was evident. “And who is it we’re assassinating?”

            “I assume the two of you aren’t familiar with the names on the list, and there is no shame in that. I imagine most people don’t.” He shifted his weight to the other foot. “Almost everyone on that list is somehow involved with the Thalmor. They’ve wronged Skyrim in one way or another, but if their deaths are traced back to me, the Aldmeri Dominion will pursue Skyrim with a higher intensity than they already have. If I cut off their contacts within my country, they lose information. And knowledge is power.”

            I could hear Cicero’s smile beneath his cowl. “The High King is a clever man.” He pointed down at the list. “May I ask what the stars are for?”

            “I was hoping you would.” Ulfric said. “The order or way in which these people are killed does not matter to me, except for the two with stars beside their names. I want Elenwen killed last. She’s the main target, my own Titus Mede II, if you will. I want her to know her death is in pending, that it’s around the corner. She has wronged me personally, you see, and I want her suffering to be psychological.”

            “And the other?” I asked, looking up at Ulfric.

            He laughed. “I’m not sure that Viarmo actually has any involvement with the Thalmor. My lust for his death is, again, of a personal nature. As I’ve recently found out, he beat my children after marrying their mother. The damage he caused them went far beyond physical, and if I’d known sooner, I would have killed him on my own.” He smirked. “However, it came to my attention that your organization has more experience than I do with killing, and his is a death I want to be painful. Incredibly painful, as he deserves.”

            I glanced at Cicero, whose eyes were wide with excitement. Turning back to the High King, I nodded. “These requests will be honored, Ulfric Stormcloak, as long as the coin is provided in the end.”

            “It will be.” he assured, nodding to me. He extended a bloody hand, staring down at me. “We have a deal, then? Sixty thousand septims for the death of five people.”

            I smirked, though he couldn’t see it from beneath my cowl. I took his red hand, shaking it with casual ferocity. “It’s a deal.”


	17. A Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of the Circle have a discussion about the afterlife they want. Soon after, Farkas, Vilkas, and Karalissa travel to the Tomb of Ysgramor to cure themselves.
> 
> POV: Karalissa

            I sat up in bed, the morning still so early that no light trickled through the window. Looking over to the other side of the bed, my heart dropped as I realized Vilkas had never come to bed. I inhaled and exhaled for a long time, staring at his spot until I willed myself to get up and get dressed.

            He was angry with me, Vilkas, and it was something I’d never experienced. I’d known him to be angry, of course, but it was never directed at me specifically. Since our argument in the Palace of Kings the day before, Vilkas and I had hardly spoken to each other. I hadn’t gone a day without talking to him since the moment I met him, and it was making me antsy.

            I pulled on a dark red sweater and a pair of trousers, the sweater-trouser combination being one of my few options since my armor no longer fit. The next step was pants no longer fitting, a stage I was not excited for, because I particularly hated wearing dresses. I combed my hair quickly, then left the room, walking down the hall and then down the stairs, trying to sneak quietly as Vilkas’ snores permeated the silence of the house.

            He was asleep on the couch, Kodlak’s book of findings on his chest. I moved toward him, sitting on the edge of the couch and pushing his dirty hair away from his face. He stirred, opening his eyes to look up at me, his face so sad.

            “Hi.” I said to him, running my fingers through his dark, wavy hair.

            “Hi.” he mumbled, offering me an apologetic smile. He rolled onto his side, placing the book on the floor and scooting against the back of the couch before pulling me down to lay with him. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice groggy from sleep.

            “I’m sorry, too.” I said, placing my hands over his.

            “Don’t be.” he said. “I shouldn’t have been so angry. I should have listened and tried to understand, because I do now. I was just…I was only thinking about Jergen. I don’t want to be anything like him, Kara. I want to do everything right, for you and for our child. I don’t want to mess anything up, the way he did, but that’s what I’m doing.”

            “You’re nothing like him, Vilkas.” I assured, scratching his forearm with my fingernails.

            “This is how he would behave, though. I put all of the pressure on you, to make you decide, but you’re right. You can’t decide for everyone, and it’s not fair to expect you to. I wasn’t thinking about anyone else. Gods, I didn’t even consider what my brother would want. How could I not even think about Farkas?”

            “It’s okay, Villy.” I said, patting his arm. “You’re just worried.”

            “I am.” he said. “I’m worried for all of us.”

            I sighed, shutting my eyes as he spoke. “I am, too.”

            “We’ll talk to Aela and Farkas this morning.” Vilkas said, thinking out loud more than he was talking to me. Vilkas often just started talking and didn’t stop, not needing any response at all. He could carry on a one-sided conversation for hours if you just nodded every once in a while. “We’ll talk to them about what it is we want, and tell them we want their input. But if they don’t want us to cure ourselves for some reason, I don’t know what I would do.”

            “They want us to.” I said. “They want us to be happy, just like we want them to be happy. I want all of us to be happy, Vilkas.”

            “I do, too.” he replied, kissing my cheek before he sat up, climbing over me and setting his feet on the floor. He sat back down on the edge of the couch, pulling his boots onto his feet and buckling them. After, he stood, extending a hand to pull me to my feet, and then we left the house.

            After locking the door behind him, Vilkas and I traveled down the street toward the stairs that led up to the Wind District. It was abandoned in the early morning, the sun just beginning to crawl over the wall surrounding the city. There wasn’t a guard or citizen in sight, Vilkas and I utterly alone to bask in the quiet of our seclusion. As we passed Belethor’s General Goods, Vilkas smirked at me.

            “You know,” he began. “I still haven’t gotten used to seeing you dressed like this all the time.”

            I snorted. “Dressed like what? A pregnant warrior?” We both laughed, and just like that, the fighting was centuries old, a thing of the past that we would likely never bring up again. Our hands connected instinctually, entwining fingers and closing the little distance between us.

            “Aye, I suppose.” Vilkas said, shaking his head. “I meant the colors. I’ve only known you to wear brown.”

            “Brown?” I asked, sort of taken aback. “Only brown?”

            He nodded, creasing his forehead as he explained. “Brown leather armor, brown leather boots or once-white cloth boots that turned brown with wear. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown bow, brown arrows—”

            “I get it.” I interrupted, cocking my head to the side. “Huh. You know, I never even noticed. Gods, I’m so boring.”

            “You’re not boring, pup.” Vilkas said with a laugh as we elevated to the Wind District. “You’re a lot of things, but boring it not one of them.”

            “Dull, then.” I countered. “I’m dull and unexciting and _brown_.”

            “You’re not brown today.” he noted, tugging the sleeve of my sweater as we passed Heimskr, who was exiting his home and walking toward the Shrine of Talos. We exchanged polite nods. “You’re a nice red.”

            I bounced excitedly as I thought. “I could color coordinate my sweaters with my moods.” I suggested, beaming up at Vilkas. “For example, today I’m feeling red. I’m in a fairly good mood, but I’m sort of anxious about this talk we have to have with Farkas and Aela.” Vilkas snorted as we climbed the steps to Jorrvaskr. “Oh my gods, I’ll wear yellow when I’m really happy. I’ll wear green when I’m feeling outdoorsy. Blue when I’m sad, black when I’m angry. White when I’m…indifferent.”

            “What if your mood changes in the middle of the day?” Vilkas proposed, holding the door open for me to enter.

            “Well, I’ll just change my sweater.” I said, shrugging.

            “Sounds like a lot of laundry to me.”

            “Oh, but entirely worth the amount of soap I’ll waste, because I’ll be so colorful.”

            Vilkas laughed loudly as we both entered Jorrvaskr, the sound echoing off of the wooden walls. He shook his head as he quieted himself, nudging me with his shoulder. “You are easily the strangest person I’ve ever known.”

            “Why thank you, Villy.” I said, shrugging my shoulders up and down alternatively. “Compliment accepted.” As I looked around the room, I noticed Farkas sitting on his own in the corner, staring back at us with his usual happy smile. “There’s my little baby!” I called, hopping down the stairs and toward him.

            He laughed, a very specific Farkas laugh that made me smile, and he pushed a chair out for me to sit. “Little baby Lissa’s here. Time to celebrate.” he said, tossing me an apple, which I caught before I dropped into the seat. I took a bite as I smiled my thanks to him.

            Vilkas followed suit, pulling out the chair beside me and sitting. He smiled at his brother, a real smile that showed he was happy to see him. Though Farkas and Vilkas rarely expressed it to each other, they had a very deep connection. They were twins, after all, and they were never apart for too long, but they had always been able to say the things they needed to say without really saying them.

            “I still don’t understand that, you know.” Vilkas said, taking a bite of my apple as I offered it to him. “Why call each other babies? I’m not sure if it’s an insult or if you’re flirting with each other.”

            Farkas rolled his eyes. “It’s not either.”

            “Farkas is just a little baby. He needs attention, and I read to him, and we’re best friends.” I said, raising my eyebrows in admiration.

            “And Lissa is just a little baby.” Farkas added. “She’s small and giggly and she cries a lot. And I would punch anyone who hurt her right in their stupid face.”

            “I don’t cry a lot.” I argued, wrinkling my nose.

            Farkas snorted. “You cry all the time. You cry when you’re happy, you cry when you’re sad, you cry when you’re mad.”

            “Yeah, yeah.” I said, shaking my head. “So I’m emotional. I’m also pregnant and hormonal, so your argument is invalid.”

            “Oh please.” Farkas said with a laugh. “You’ve always been a crier.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. “It’s okay though because you’re just a little baby.” I grumbled, shrugging him off of my and giving him a playful shove. He laughed before he turned to Vilkas. “Any training you have to do today?”

            “Actually, no.” Vilkas replied, raising his eyebrows to express his own surprise. “I have a day off. I would, however, like to spend some time talking to—”

            “To me and Aela.” Farkas finished for him, nodding with a sad smile on his face. “Yeah, we know.”

            I felt Vilkas’ surprised beyond my own, along with Farkas’ indifference. Vilkas blinked at his brother. “How did you figure that out? Cass told you?”

            Farkas shook his head. “No. Actually, we were in the hall while you two were arguing yesterday.”

            My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. “You heard that?”

            “Every word.” Farkas said, pursing his lips. “Aela’s actually waiting in the underforge for the two of you. I was supposed to sit up here and wait for you both.”

            Guilt ruptured in Vilkas’ chest. “Brother, I’m sorry you heard that. I know it sounded like I didn’t care what you wanted, but I didn’t mean for—”

            “Nah, no need for all of that.” Farkas interrupted, offering Vilkas a reaffirming smile. “I know exactly what you were saying.” He sighed. “Aela is a little worked up, though.”

            “Have we hurt her feelings?” I asked, genuinely worried that we had.

            Farkas furrowed his brow, looking up at nothing in particular as he thought. “I don’t think so, but she has a lot she wants to say to both of you.” He stood from the table, offering his hand to help me up. “Better get it over with now. It’s best not to let her simmer.”

            I nodded as he pulled me to my feet, turning to read Vilkas’ expression. Though the guilt in his chest overwhelmed it, the worry on his face was still evident. I placed my hand against his cheek, trying to reassure him that everything would be fine, and he offered me a soft smile.

            We followed Farkas out of Jorrvaskr and into the courtyard, where the sun had finally crested in the sky, now illuminating Jorrvaskr’s exterior. We trailed behind him to the large stone wall, where he opened the secret entrance and stepped inside. He led the way to Aela, Vilkas pausing to shut the entryway again.

            When she was not in the main room, Farkas called for her. “Aela?”

            Footsteps in the hall leading to the fields of Skyrim became audible, and Aela came into view moments later. She shuffled toward us, passing us with a nod and hopping up to sit on the low ledge at the back of the room.

            “I know you two want to talk, but I think Farkas and I heard enough yesterday.” she said simply, folding her arms over her chest and crossing her legs.

            I nodded. “And I’m sorry you did, Aela. We didn’t know you two were in earshot.”

            Aela pursed her lips. “I have a lot to say, so let me know when you’re ready to hear it, because once I start, I’m not stopping.”

            Vilkas and I exchanged a glance and a nod, then we turned back to her. “Aye.” Vilkas said. “We’re ready.”

            Aela took a deep breath. “I have three things I want to say.” she began, leaning forward. “First of all, Lissa, how _dare_ you? How dare you consider my emotions in your situation?”

            I jerked my head back in surprise. “W-What?”

            “You should be worrying about your child and about yourself, not about me and Farkas. We’re adults. We’re grown Nords who can make decisions for ourselves. We both knew that the two of you would eventually cure yourselves. You have a struggle against the blood that we do not, so we’ll never understand how being moon-born feels to the two of you, and we can’t spite you for wishing to rid yourselves of it.

            “I know that you’ve been to the Hunting Grounds. I mean, gods, all three of you have been to the Hunting Grounds. If you’ve been there and you don’t like it, why would anyone chastise you for not wanting to return? I’ve heard what Farkas has told me, what Lissa has told us. I haven’t heard what Vilkas has seen, but I’m sure it was different for him than the rest of you. If you know that Sovngarde is what you want, don’t worry about what the rest of us want, or whether or not we would approve of what you desire.

            “I just…I’m so angry that you consider everyone else’s feelings before you consider your own. Stop being so selfless all the time, Lissa. You’re a good person to your core, and I’m just so freaked out by that. Worry less about us, and more about the things that are important right now.” She looked up at Farkas. “Farkas and I are both so happy for the two of you. This is a huge step into your lives together, and we’re happy that we’ll get to be involved. Farkas hasn’t shut up about being an uncle for months now, so thanks for that too.”

            Farkas shrugged. “I’m excited. I’ll be a really good uncle.”

            Aela nodded. “You’re damned right you will.” She turned back to us. “Secondly, Vilkas you have to dial it back a notch. I know being moody and dark and brooding is sort of your thing, but yelling at Lissa is sort of unnecessary. She’s trying to be giving and considerate, and you’re being clunky and confusing. Farkas said that it was because you don’t want to be like your father. True or false.”

            Vilkas cleared his throat. “True.”

            “Okay.” Aela said. “Well, you’re not. You’re a good man, and when I was trying to think about things that I heard yesterday to absolutely shut you down for, all I could remember was that you said I’m a sister to you. And I am. We’re real siblings more than Shield-Siblings, and we have been for a long time, Vilkas. You have to understand that I am behind you in everything. I’ll walk into battle at your side, just as I’ll walk into a bar just to spend time with you. You’re my brother, Vilkas. Now get off of everyone’s back.”

            Vilkas nodded, his cheeks blushing in both embarrassment and satisfaction. “Aye, I will.”

Aela took a long breath before continuing. “The last thing is Skjor. Lissa, I’ve told you so many times not to blame yourself for his death. We all have.”

            I shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Aela, it’s not his death I’m concerned about now.”

            Aela nodded, her voice softening. “I know that. You’re worried that he’ll be alone up there, and you’re worried that it’s your fault.” At my nod, she pursed her lips. “There’s something to explain to the two of you, something that you need to understand, because I think the two of you need to go cure yourselves today. You’ve wasted too much time, and you need to get it over with.

            “When Skjor gave me the blood, I hated it. I absolutely hated it at first, because I couldn’t control myself. We’re all well aware, at this point, that I strive to be the best at everything I do, and when I was newly born into Hircine’s blood, I couldn’t be the best. With discipline and teachings, I became the best, though, and being moon-born is so much a part of me now.

            “Skjor and I always talked about roaming the Hunting Grounds together. We planned to spend our afterlife hunting together and honoring Hircine, and that was honestly all I wanted. I could have died at any moment, knowing Skjor would join me in the Hunting Grounds eventually.

            “When we lost Skjor, I thought that I was the only one affected by it. I had to learn that it was a loss we all had to live with, and by learning that Lissa still blamed herself for his death, hearing her say it again just yesterday, it breaks my heart. It hurts because I know it’s _my_ fault. It’s _my_ fault he’s gone. It’s _my_ fault they killed him. It’s _my_ fault you feel this way, Lissa, and I’m so sorry for that. And even still, I wanted to go to the Hunting Grounds, to be with him again.

            “When Kodlak died, things…things changed.” she explained, looking down at her hands. “I spoke with Kodlak’s spirit in the Tomb of Ysgramor, and I watched the relief that washed over him after his beast was banished from his soul. I saw the joy in his eyes when he gazed upon Sovngarde for the first time. He didn’t enjoy the Hunting Grounds. And Lissa didn’t enjoy the Hunting Grounds. And Farkas didn’t enjoy the Hunting Grounds.

            “And then, we experienced even more loss. Lissa and Farkas were taken from us, and Lissa and I grieved Vilkas’ death because we _felt_ it before we even knew it happened. I held Lissa on the steps of Jorrvaskr while she drowned in sorrow and sobbed, because we both _really_ thought you were dead, Vilkas.” Aela shook her head, likely trying to shake the image from her head. I glanced up at Vilkas, who placed his hand on my back, reminded me that he was right there.

            “There was something Lissa said, just before Farkas and Cassius returned without you, something that has stuck with me for ages. I asked her what she would do if the fates had taken you from her before you’d been married for more than a few months. Do you know what she said?” Aela asked Vilkas, and I felt my back tense at the question.

            Vilkas looked down at me, then connected his gaze with Aela’s. “No. I don’t.”

            Aela nodded. “She said it would be the most painful thing she’d ever experience, and she would curse the fates, but eventually she would accept them. And she said she would expect you to do the same.”

            I felt both pride and sorrow build in Vilkas’ chest as he held me tighter against him. “Aye, as she should. As I would do, too.”

            Aela pointed at him, nodding her head in defeat as she lowered her hand again. “And that’s exactly where I’ve been wrong, this whole time. You two love each other enough to do right by the other constantly, even in death. Lissa would move on and stop being sad because she just knows that’s what you would want her to do. And you would do the same. You would do anything to do right by each other, even when the other is long gone.”

            I nodded. “We would.”

            “And I know that’s why you’re trying to do right by Skjor now, Lissa.” Aela continued, smiling kindly at me. “I know you still feel guilty, and you still feel like you have to fix it, but you can’t. You can’t because there’s nothing to fix, and even if there was, that’s not your responsibility. It’s mine.”

            “You can’t do it alone, Aela.” I said.

            Aela laughed quietly. “I know that. I’m never alone, because I have the three of you. And I want to express to you that everything that’s happened is irreversible. I can’t take back Skjor’s death. I can’t take back Kodlak’s death. I can’t take back the things that have happened to all of us, and I wouldn’t, because if I did, I wouldn’t have realized that I’m _meant_ to be with Farkas.”

            Aela and Farkas exchanged a glance, a smile, a look I’d never seen before. It became very clear to me, then, that they were utterly in love, more in love than I had thought they were, and my own heart swelled as much as Vilkas’ did when she spoke the words. I realized that so much had been missed in translation, and I kicked myself for not asking.

            “I am so in love with Farkas, I’m disgusted with myself.” Aela said, making Farkas laugh loudly from where he leaned against the wall. “I can’t explain it, the love I have for him, because it’s too colossal to put into words. I never wanted to be the woman who picks love over battle, but I am, now. I would do absolutely anything for him, and I wish I’d known that this was how it was meant to be the moment I met him, because there was so much time lost that we could have spent together.”

            “And I wish the same thing.” Farkas added, watching Aela with love-struck eyes. “I’ve always loved you. I always will. We have each other now.”

            Aela smiled. “And that’s all the two of you should have to know. It’s apparent that no one will ever truly know me except for Farkas, and he’s the only person who needs to know me. I love the two of you, but it’s for Farkas that I choose Sovngarde, not the Hunting Grounds. The four of us will always be together, as we should be. As we were meant to be.

            “It pains me to know that Skjor’s pack will never join him in the Hunting Grounds, but that’s what was meant to happen. I know, in my heart, he wouldn’t want his presence to affect my decisions. He wouldn’t want me to pick him and be unhappy. He would want me to go to Sovngarde, if that made me happy. He wants all of us to be happy.”

            “It’s true.” Vilkas said. “He told me before I was revived that he understood that the rest of his pack wanted Sovngarde.”

            Aela nodded for a final time. “And it shall be so. Tonight, something shifts in the moons because two children of Hircine cleanse their souls and the soul of their child.”

            “Three.” Farkas said, smiling at Aela and then at us. “I’m going with you both.”

            Vilkas’ heart was soaring. “Really, brother? You’re sure?”

            “Of course I’m sure.” Farkas said, furrowing his brow in confusion. “Where you go, I go. Where I go, you go.” Vilkas beamed, extending his hand to place on Farkas’ shoulder.

            Aela hopped off of her perch, striding toward us casually. “And I’ll cure myself, too. Just not today. I want to find the totems, to finish Skjor’s work and analyze their meaning, then converse my thoughts to Hircine. Then, I will rid myself of the beast, too.”

            I wrapped my arms around Aela as she approached, squeezing her tightly as she laughed. Farkas joined the hug too, always a big softy, and he rested his cheek against the top of Aela’s head. I reached behind me to drag Vilkas into the mix, and though he grumbled in protest, I knew he was happy to be involved as he wrapped his arms around me and his brother.

And so the four of us held each other in the underforge, where we all received the blood, where we all decided to try to cure Kodlak, and where we all stood the moment we realized that it had always been the four of us against the world.

            And it always would be.

 

 

            We stood before the Tomb of Ysgramor, a satchel on Farkas’ back that held three heads, each belonging to a Glenmoril Witch. We had stopped at the Glenmoril Witch Coven on the way to Ysgramor’s Tomb, and it didn’t take the twins nearly as long as it took me to sever their heads and add them to Farkas’ little pack.

            I looked up at Vilkas, who seemed so nervous to enter the tomb. I reached for his hand, squeezing it gently to assure him that things would be fine. Farkas grabbed my other hand, and the three of us stood together before the entrance, anticipating the journey we were about to embark on.

            I cleared my throat. “I have two things to share with you both.”

            “Alright.” Farkas said, looking down at me at the same time Vilkas did.

            “The first is that we won’t have to deal with any phantom guards. Aela and I opened the passageway that leads directly to the Flame of the Harbinger. As soon as we enter, it’s to the right of Ysgramor’s statue.”

            Vilkas nodded. “What’s the other thing?”

            I took a deep breath. “It is the Flame of the Harbinger. All of the Harbingers who have ever led the Companions will be watching, but we will only see the people we have known.”

            Vilkas’ breath hitched, and Farkas inhaled sharply. “You mean Kodlak, don’t you?” Farkas asked, squeezing my hand even tighter.

            “Yes.” I confirmed. “I believe Kodlak may be waiting for us.”

Vilkas was silent for a moment, and then he spoke. “How is it done, Kara? What do we do?”

            “We each have to drop a head into the flames, and as the flesh of the traitor reaches the heat, the wolf within us will be released from our bodies. We then must battle the wolf, and we must conquer it. It doesn’t matter who kills it, as long as it’s killed.” I looked up at both of them. “Then, we’ll be cured.”

            Farkas nodded, a smile on his face. “Alright.” he said, releasing my hand and extending his arm toward the entrance. “Lead the way, Harbinger.”

            I smiled, and they followed behind me as we descended the steps into the Nord-made hole in the ground. Both of the boys clunked as they walked, both heavy-steppers in their thick armor. I pulled the door open, holding it open for the two of them to enter, and then trailing in behind them.

            Farkas and Vilkas both stood at the Shrine of Ysgramor, their eyes wide in admiration of the large man. Vilkas picked up a few of the trinkets left as tokens of praise at his feet, one of which was a book. He opened the cover and flipped through a few pages.

            His head jerked back. “Kara.” he said, looking up at me and gesturing for me to look at the book. “This is someone’s journal. It’s centuries old.”

            “Do you know whose it is?” I asked, looking at the pages as Farkas joined us, peering over Vilkas’ shoulders.

            “No.” Vilkas said as he pointed at the page. “But read this.”

            I did, my eyes scanning the page and absorbing the information, then widening as I interpreted. Farkas nudged me. “What does it say?” he asked, unable to read it for himself.

            I felt my brow furrow. “Whoever wrote this journal claimed Ysgramor could shout.”

            “All of us can shout.” Farkas said.

            “I believe they mean the Thu’um, Farkas.” I said, looking up at Vilkas in confusion. “The Way of the Voice.”

            “Was Ysgramor Dragonborn?” Vilkas asked no one in particular. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that. I know he was referred to as being like a dragon, with ferocity and intelligence. But Dragonborn?”

            I shrugged. “We’ll have to ask my brother.” I nodded toward the path to the right of us, previously hidden by a secret door. “Come on. It’s this way.”

            The boys trailed behind me as we moved down the path, our hearts heavy as we anticipated what would await us. The hallway was dark, dimly lit by the flame in the room we traveled to, which never extinguished. As we entered the upper level of Ysgramor’s resting place, the chilling, blue phantom that waited at the bottom made my heart so light. He waited below, staring up at us with a familiar smile.

            “Kodlak!” Farkas shouted, bounding down that stairs toward the phantom. Vilkas froze at the word, not wanting to look in case his eyes would deceive him, but as he did, his heart softened entirely. I took his hand, guiding him toward the ghost of his father, who eagerly awaited us near the flame.

            Farkas stood before Kodlak with a huge smile on his face, one of his hands in Kodlak’s and the other reaching for Vilkas. Hesitantly, Vilkas let go of me and loomed toward Kodlak, taking his other hand and standing before him. After a moment of silence, tears formed in Vilkas’ eyes and he began to cry, a sight I rarely saw, and one that shattered me.

            “Kodlak…” he whispered, choking on the sobs that formed in his chest. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t save you.”

            Kodlak chuckled, the sound off-putting to Vilkas and causing him to immediately stop crying. “There is nothing to apologize for, my son. All that was done was done with purpose, and that purpose was so you could be here, with me, today.” Kodlak smiled, his own eyes watering. “I’ve missed you both so much.”

            “We’ve missed you, Kodlak.” Farkas said, his smile never faltering. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”

            Kodlak turned to me, releasing Farkas’ hand to extend his arm in my direction, signaling for me to approach him. “Not the same, but just as good, I’ve gathered. Karalissa leads the Companions with honor and valor, just as she was meant to.”

            Farkas nodded. “She has.”

            “It’s wonderful to see you, Kodlak.” I said, placing my hand against the side of his face before stepping back again so his hand could reconnect with Farkas’.

            “My sons have come to cure themselves.” Kodlak said simply, a kind smile framing his words. “You wish to spend your afterlife with me in Sovngarde.”

            “Of course we do.” Farkas said, nodding. “And we can cure ourselves here?”

            “Yes, my son. Karalissa can show you how to do it.” He placed both of his hands on either of their faces, a firm touch that told them he always loved them as much as they loved him. “I’ll wait for you both in Sovngarde. Live happy lives, free of this curse that has burdened you for so long. Promise me you’ll live freely. Promise me you’ll love freely. Promise me you’ll be free.”

            “We promise.” Farkas said, lifting his hand to touch Kodlak’s spectral forearm.

            “Aye, master.” Vilkas said, his voice strong and steady now. “We promise.”

            Kodlak smiled a knowing smile as he shook his head, grazing Vilkas’ cheek with his thumb. “I’m nobody’s master, my son. Especially not yours.” He turned back to me, the smile never leaving his face. “You’ve done so much for my boys, Karalissa. Thank you.”

            I simply nodded, watching as Kodlak stepped away from the twins, smiling one final time before his spectral body faded into the air around us, leaving us to stand together in the cold room. All was silent for a moment as Farkas and Vilkas stared at the space Kodlak had just occupied moments ago.

            I moved toward Vilkas, stepping in front of him and reaching up to wipe the moisture from his face. He smiled down at me, blinking his tears away.

            “Are you okay?” I asked, accidentally smearing the war paint around his eyes.

            He nodded, catching my hand and kissing my knuckles. “Aye. I’m wonderful.”

            Farkas placed his hand on my shoulder, a determined look on his face as he removed the satchel from his back. “Are you both ready?”

            “I am.” I said, smiling up at Farkas before I turned back to Vilkas. “Are you?”

            “Aye.” he said, his spirit radiating confidence and strength. “I’m ready.”

            I took the pack from Farkas, walking toward the flame and reaching in to grip one of the heads. I pulled it from the bag, holding it up by the hair to show the twins. Blood dribbled from the severed neck, bits of flesh dropping to the floor around me.

            Farkas gagged. “Oh my gods, that’s so disgusting.”

            I scowled. “Well, what did you think it was going to look like?”

            “I don’t know.” he replied, shaking his head. “But I didn’t think it would be that. Ugh, that’s been on my back for hours.”

            “Well, you have to throw it in yourself.” I explained, walking toward him and offering it to him.

            Farkas shook his head violently. “Uh-uh. Not touching it.”

            “Then how are you going to cure yourself?” I asked with a laugh. “Don’t be a baby.”

            “I am a baby.” Farkas said, turning his nose up. “And Baby’s not touching that.”

            “For the love of Talos, just give it to me.” Vilkas muttered, gripping the dead witch’s head by the skull and stalking toward the flame. He extended his hand above the blue fire, hesitating a moment before releasing the head.

            Farkas and I drew our weapons as Vilkas grunted, dropping to one knee and gripping the sides of his head. He shook violently, a low moan escaping his lips as red smoke slithered away from Vilkas’ head. After what seemed like an eternity, the smoke transformed into a red wolf, and it landed on its paws beside Vilkas, pacing back and forth slowly as it made its way toward me and Farkas.

            I lifted my bow, knocking an arrow and preparing to fire. Farkas, too, lifted his greatsword and gripped it tightly with both hands. I stepped toward the wolf, moving so slow I could easily fire an arrow, and I reared my arm back as I readied my stance, inhaling as I prepared to release.

            _Stop._

Vilkas’ voice was a whisper in my head. Instinctively, I lowered my bow slightly, looking to Vilkas for an explanation. Farkas seemed to have heard it too, for he also lowered his sword. Vilkas had just staggered to his feet, drawing his own weapon.

_Kara._

My eyes darted between Vilkas and the wolf, who was still stalking toward us, now much closer. The wolf cocked its head to the side, as if it had no idea what was happening. Vilkas seemed confused too, but I couldn’t understand why he was talking to me.

            _Farkas._

            Farkas’ head jerked back, and he looked between Vilkas and the wolf as I had. His brow was furrowed, and he lowered his blade entirely.

            I shook my head as I understood. “It’s not Vilkas.” I said, raising my weapon again. “It’s the wolf.”

            _Stop._

            “Don’t listen to it!” I yelled to Farkas. He nodded, lifting his greatsword again as the wolf finally charged, unable to trick us anymore.

            As the wolf lunged at us, Farkas swung his large sword out, connecting with the wolf’s neck and severing it. It rolled away from the body, which buckled over limp legs, and both halves of the body evaporated into the air around us.

            Vilkas approached us, his eyes wide. He lowered his own sword, unused in the battle with his wolf spirit.

            “How does it feel, brother?” Farkas asked, his brow still furrowed.

            Vilkas shook his head. “I-It’s like waking up from a dream. I can breathe more deeply now. I can’t smell your heart beating the way I used to.” He laughed to himself. “But my mind is…clear.”

            Farkas nodded. “Okay, it’s my turn.”

            I reached into the pack and pulled out another head. Holding it by the hair again, I offered it to Farkas. “Is Baby sure he can touch the nasty witch?”

            Farkas smirked, taking the head and then flipping his middle finger in my direction. I laughed loudly as he strode with confidence toward the flame. He didn’t approach it entirely, just stood a few paces back and tossed the head in from a distance.

            Within moments, Farkas hunched over, a red wolf leaping out of the muscles in his back and running quickly around the room. It bounced around like a puppy, its tongue hanging out of the side of its mouth as it ran in large circles around us.

            I raised my bow, aiming for one spot in particular, and letting it fly just before the wolf passed through it. The arrow connected with its eye, and the wolf whimpered as it hit the floor. After another moment, Farkas’ wolf spirit faded into nothing, just as Vilkas’ had.

            Lowering my bow, I called to Farkas. “How is it?”

            Farkas laughed, running his hands over his arms and chest. “It’s like relaxing into a mug of warm spiced mead.” he called back. “I’m losing aches I didn’t even know I had. This is how a warrior should feel. Alive and alert. Not clouded with thoughts of the hunt.”

            Vilkas smiled, giving me a nudge. “Alright, Kara. Just you, now.”

            I nodded, pulling the last head from the bag and tossing the bag to the side as I walked toward the flame. I stood above the cerulean fire for just a moment, staring into the depths of heat before I dropped the head into the Flame of the Harbinger.

            I staggered back as the head was consumed, unable to keep myself upright as fire shot through my chest. I heard my own scream escape my lips as I dropped to my hands and knees. Unable to stay upright, I rolled onto my back, pain rippling through my ribcage as the wolf emerged from my chest.

            It stood above me, panting heavily and growling. I stared up at the wolf, my emotions becoming overwhelming and then fading entirely, until I felt absolutely nothing. I understood, then, that each wolf spirit was different. Vilkas’ wolf had so much control over his brain, and so it could manipulate us into thinking Vilkas was speaking in our heads. Farkas’ wolf was light and controllable, and it dashed around the room as if it just wanted to play. The wolf within me had never been very nice, and it manipulated me to feel utterly emotionless and lay still as it opened its jaws to attack me.

            As it reared back on its hind legs, Farkas gripped it around the neck, holding it steady while Vilkas drove his steel sword through the wolf’s chest. It didn’t whimper, only rolling away with a fading growl as it vanished entirely.

            Vilkas and Farkas both extended their hands to help me off of the ground, pulling me to my feet. As Vilkas brushed my back off, Farkas smiled at me.

            “How do you feel, Lissa?” Farkas asked.

            I blinked several times as my emotions returned. First fear, and then happiness. Anger, exasperation, curiosity, and wonder, and love. And then finally, relief.

            I smiled up at Farkas, shaking my head. “I feel…free.”


	18. An Armpit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassius' family time is interrupted when a dragon calls him into battle. Later, Cassius is bored, and he heads to Jorrvaskr in hopes Karalissa can entertain him.
> 
> POV: Cassius

            I found myself laughing as I watched Cat stumble around our bedroom. Lydia was sitting cross-legged a few feet from me, holding Cat up on her feet and turning her to face me again. I extended my arms, signaling for Catriona to hobble toward me on chubby, baby feet. With great effort, she finally reached my arms, and I scooped her up and kissed her face, earning loud giggles.

            Lydia beamed as she watched, her eyes sparkling with deep, blue enthusiasm. She laughed to herself. “I still can’t believe we have a child.” she said, shaking her head. “I think about it sometimes, and it just feels so…normal.”

            “Normal, huh?” I asked, setting Cat back on her feet and nudging her to walk toward Lydia. She wobbled toward her, and when she reached Lyd, we both cheered for her. “You’re right.” I said. “It feels normal.”

            “I didn’t know that it would feel like this.” Lyd said, smiling as she held Cat on her feet by her tiny hands. “It just feels like this is what we were meant to do.”

            I laughed, a loud laugh as I thought about that. “Think about it, Lyd. A few years ago, we were wandering around Skyrim battling bandits and fighting giant lizards, and now, we’re sitting on the floor in our pajamas teaching our daughter to walk.”

            Lydia smirked as Cat walked back toward me. “She already knows how to walk. We’re practicing.”

            “You’re right.” I said, scooping Catriona up and kissing her face again. “She’s just good at everything.”

            I felt it then, the deep itch in my chest as all of the souls I’d ever absorbed stirred, awake and ready to fight. They were quiet at first, a slow burn between my ribs that stretched into my lungs and pulsated with the rhythm of my heart. It spread quickly, warming up my skin and making my neck itch. I placed a fist over my heart, willing them to stop, but ultimately accepting what this meant and growing angry.

            “Damnit!” I exclaimed in a softer tone than usual, setting Cat on the blanket between me and Lydia and shaking a toy for her to play with. Once she was occupied, I rubbed my face with my hands, shaking my head as I stood from the ground.

            Lydia furrowed her brow, also standing and closing the distance between us quickly. “What is it?”

            I clenched my jaw, genuinely irritated that I was being pulled from this moment. “There’s another gods damned dragon outside.”

            “ _Another_ one?” Lydia asked, her eyes widening. We hadn’t anticipated the amount of dragons I would have to deal with when we moved to Windhelm. When we lived in Lakeview, and in Whiterun for that matter, I very rarely had to battle dragons. I dealt with more giants and mammoths than dragons, and but I should have expected to come into more contact with them in the North. Dragons preferred the cold, and Windhelm was under a near constant blanket of snow.

            “Yeah, another one.” I said, with a sigh. “I swear to the gods, Lyd, if I have to kill another dragon after this, I’ll lose my mind.”

            I moved away from her, striding across the room to pull my armor on. As I was buckling the bonded iron chest plate, I felt a pang of heat, the temperature of fire, in my chest, and I grunted, followed shortly after by several streams of profanities.

            I stood, fully armored, and I looked around for my helmet, which wasn’t where I usually left it on the dresser near our bed. Lydia cleared her throat, and when I looked up, I smirked, realizing she held it in her hands.

            I moved toward her, taking the helmet from her as she placed her hand on my exposed upper arm. She stared up at me with concern in her eyes. “Come back when you win.” she said quietly. “Okay?”

            Lydia and I had made it a habit never to tell each other to be careful. We’d found that it usually jinxed us, if we said to be careful, and one of us would end up hurt. So I just nodded, kissing her before I smirked. “Okay.”

            I left the Palace of Kings immediately after that, the fire in my chest pulling me toward the impending battle. The city of Windhelm was gray and darkening as the sun set beyond the wall, and a cold wind whipped through my hair, sending it flying behind me as I moved toward the gate.

            I looked down at the helmet in my hands as I walked, counting the dents and scuffs, remembering the tales they told. I’d found the helmet in Helgen Keep, shortly after Alduin attacked when Ralof and I were escorting Ulfric back to this very city. I had thought it was the ugliest helmet I’d ever seen, a dull iron that wasn’t at all protective, adorned with horns on either side. I’d only taken it to sell it. Karalissa having been in charge of carrying the all of the coin before we were separated, I’d had nothing in the pockets of my ragged trousers to keep the lint company, and I didn’t know how long it would take me to get back to my sister.

            The helmet had grown on me, though, when I’d been forced to put it on. Halfway to Windhelm, we’d encountered a bear in the woods, and I’d pulled it on in a moment of panic. Though it didn’t actually serve a purpose, it felt like it had helped after I pulled my stolen Imperial sword out of the bear’s unmoving chest. When I’d turned to Ulfric, simply to ensure his safety, he’d smirked. It was the same smirk he always used, like he knew a secret that you never would. He had pointed up at the helmet as I’d removed it.

            _“It suits you.”_ he’d said to me, a sparkle in his brown eyes, which I hadn’t known were identical to mine. _“You could win a battle with anything that crossed your path in a helmet like that.”_

            I’d always worn it after that, Ulfric Stormcloak being my idol and whatnot. The helmet did prove to be useful when dragons blew fire in my direction. Though my beard had been singed on more than one occasion, I was still kicking, simply because the helmet did its job.

            My thoughts were interrupted as a roar rang out overhead. I watched the dragon circle the city, refusing to enter simply because there was no place to land. The people within the walls began to notice, the sounds of panic rising up in the streets. Guards ran toward the gate, weapons drawn and battle cries audible. Women gripped the hands of their children, tugging them inside their homes to safety, and the beggars on the walkway made their way to the Gray Quarters, searching for cover.

            I rolled my eyes as I placed my helmet on my head, pushing the gates of Windhelm open and moving toward the surrounding fields. I could hear the screams of men battling the dragon, their egos nearly as large as the winged beast, and I knew I should hurry to help them, but at this point, I was simply exasperated. There had been four dragons to land outside of Windhelm in the last month alone, and the guards did the same thing every time. They would rush out into battle and get themselves charred or eaten, and then I would have to kill the dragon myself anyway. Might as well let them get a few hits in before I take over.

            The dragon became visible as I hopped off of the bridge, whipping its head back and forth as it killed a nameless, faceless guard with its jaws. It tossed the guard aside, sending him flying several hundred yards. The dragon flapped its wings, lifting off of the ground and roaring mightily as it circled the guards. They fired arrows, most missing the beast completely, but it continued to fly in laps, and I shook my head as my chest filled with fire again, the souls I’d already absorbed restless as the dragon called for me, and me alone, to fight.

            “Dovahkiin bo!” I called to it, telling the dragon that I had arrived to fight. Its head whipped toward me, and I felt the souls within me laugh as the dragon did.

            “Dovah lost saran fah Dovahkiin.” it spoke in a deep voice, hovering before me. He had been waiting for me, hoping to catch me on my own.

            I had snickered. “Nii los aan zin.” I yelled back, pulling my sword from my hip as I explained that I was honored by the sentiment. “Zu’u krif voth kah fah hi, Dovah.” I called, saying I would fight with pride for him.

            “Ol Zu’u fen.” he roared, inhaling deeply to breathe a thick stream of ice in my direction. It hit my exposed flesh like a thousand tiny daggers, but I didn’t flinch, the heat that the souls in my chest radiating melting the ice as it made contact with my skin.

            The dragon orbited around me and the guards, flapping its wings and stirring the snow up around us. A few of the guards retreated, the blue of their Stormcloak cuirasses just barely visible as they dashed past us, but the remaining guards held steady, strong in their stance before the dragon.

            **JOOR ZAH FRUL** I shouted, a blue force field flying away from me and making contact with the dragon, its flight faltering as it had no choice but to land. Dragonrend had easily become one of my favorite shouts through the years. As the presence of dragons dwindled in the latter part of the Dragonborn’s existence, I didn’t use it as frequently. With the amount of dragons I’d been battling with as of recent, though, the words were powerful and dragged the dragon down quickly.

            As it touched the ground, which shuddered beneath the great weight of the forced landing, the guards rushed forward again, swords raised and battle cries reverberating through the air around us. As they swung at the dragon, which snapped its jaws at its attackers, I simply paced back and forth slowly, in its line of sight but too far to be reached by its teeth.

            The dragon and I locked eyes, and it knocked several guards away with its head to charge toward me. I spun my sword in my hand, drawing a deep breath as I shouted again.

            **YOL TOOR SHUL** A stream of fire flew from my lips and into the dragon’s face. I listened as it roared in pain, its stance becoming staggered as it blinked away the flame. Frost dragons were typically more susceptible to flame, but this dragon was different. After a moment of recovery, it lunged forward, its jaws nipping my shoulder.

            “Damnit!” I yelled as I gripped my shoulder, from which flowed a profuse amount of blood. I grit my teeth, rolling my shoulders back as I rolled away from the dragon’s jaws when it lunged again.

            I bolted toward the wings, gripping the shoulder and stabbing my sword into the tender flesh of the wing itself, dragging my sword downward to cut a long slit. The dragon screeched in pain, whipping its tail around to smack me away from its injured wing. I rolled back toward the head, plagued with sudden vertigo, but able to reorient myself quickly enough to roll out of the way, its jaws scooping up a mouthful of snow from the ground I had been laying on moments before.

            The guards were hard at work stabbing at the dragon’s back legs, and unable to find me or fly away with a busted wing, it whipped back around to them. I pulled myself to my feet, clutching my shoulder and watching the dragon swallow one of the guards. I gripped the hilt of my sword tightly as I drew breath to shout again.

            **WULD NAH KEST**

            I flew forward, landing at the base of the dragon’s neck. I dashed up the moving head, my arms held out on either side of my body to balance myself. When I arrived at the top of the head, I lifted my sword, gripping it with both hands and driving it downward into the soft spot of the skull.

            The dragon sputtered, its head flying back and tossing me into the air. I hit the soft snow with a thud, and I sat up just as the dragon’s limp neck dropped the skull to ground. The air around the dragon’s corpse was dusted with the white flecks of snow that had flown up around the head, flittering down to rest again on the ground surrounding it. I pulled myself to my feet, standing with a firm hand against my shoulder to stop the blood.

            And then, the dragon’s scales and flesh began to flake away, drifting away with the wind as it deteriorated. A soft yellow glow formed within the chest, the ribs becoming visible as the outer layer of the dragon fell away, and I readied my feet, bracing myself for the impact of the dragon’s soul.

            It hit my chest with a thud, the yellow light entwining my arms and legs and spiraling around me. I grunted as it knocked me onto my back, this particular dragon having been aggressive, and its soul mirroring that gusto as it filled my stomach. My lungs were on fire, burning with the frost that the dragon had once held its own chest. I couldn’t feel my arms or my legs, just my heart thudding rapidly, perfectly in rhythm with the chanting I heard in my head.

            As the absorption finished, I stayed on my back in the snow, staring up at the sky as my breathing returned to normal. Utterly exhausted, I counted the stars that speckled the pink and blue landscape above me until my line of sight was interrupted. A guard leaned over me, staring down at me from beneath those ugly, faceless helmets.

            “Are you alright, Dragonborn?” he asked, his accent thick and his voice tired.

            I sighed, nodding to him as I relaxed further into the snow. “I fucking hate dragons.”

           

            I wandered into Jorrvaskr, Catriona on my hip and her baby bag on my shoulder. I passed the curious glances of the Companions as I walked straight to the stairs that led to the living area, where Karalissa’s office waited at the end of the hall.

            As I pushed the door open, I walked right into Ralof, who clapped me on the back. “Cassius! It’s been too long!” Ralof said, sounding far too happy. Ralof had always been incredibly gruff, and the enthusiasm he was displaying was off-putting.

            “Good to see you, Ralof.” I said casually, my expression never changing. “Is the Harbinger here?”

            Ralof pointed toward Karl’s office. “Down the hall.”

            I nodded my thanks, striding down the long hallway toward the double doors at the end of the hall. As I approached the door, Vilkas came from the hall to the right of the office with a book in his hand. He looked up, a scowl on his face, but when he saw me, he grinned crookedly and shut the book, tucking it under his left arm

            Without even a hello to me, Vilkas closed the distance between us and took Catriona from me, placing her on his hip and taking her to Karalissa’s office. I stood curiously, my brow furrowed. “Well, hello to you too.” I muttered, watching as the door shut behind him again.

            After a moment, I heard Karalissa’s voice. “Hi, brother!” she called, acknowledging that Vilkas had not just magically summoned a baby to play with.

            I shook my head, striding toward the door and pushing it open. Inside, Karalissa had stood from her chair, her hand on her distended stomach and a smile on her face. Vilkas sat with Catriona standing on his legs, and he was making faces and talking to her, earning melodious giggles.

            “Your husband kidnapped my baby.” I grumbled as Karalissa wrapped her arm around my torso, squeezing me in a little side hug.

            “Sorry.” she said. “Vilkas, please ask before you steal my brother’s child.”

            Vilkas looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes mischievous. “Oh, hi Cass. Didn’t see you come in.”

            Karalissa rolled her eyes as she turned back to me. “Where’s Lydia?”

            I snorted. “Lydia is having a meeting.” I explained. “She’s trying to assemble a city council to start working on some renovations for the city. I tried to be involved but I got bored. I couldn’t understand half of what they were saying, so I packed the essentials and came to you. Figured you might have something fun for me to do.”

            “Fun?” Karalissa asked, an eyebrow raised. “Me?”

            “Yeah.” I said, furrowing my brow. “I figured you and I could do something fun, and Vil could watch Cat.”

            “Sounds perfect.” Vilkas said, standing from the chair. He placed Catriona on his hip again before taking the baby bag from my shoulder. He stood before us, the large bag slung over his shoulder and my daughter on his hip, a happy smile on his face.

            Karalissa laughed. “You look ridiculous.”

            “Get used to it, pup.” Vilkas said in gruff voice, which was a contradiction to the blissful smile. “We’re having a baby soon, and I’ll look like this all the time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a playdate.” With that, he strode from the room, turning to the right of the office. Within a moment, I heard a door open and shut, followed shortly after by what I assumed was Farkas’ squeal of joy.

            I shook my head. “Why are they so baby crazy?”

            Karl snickered as she rolled her eyes. “I have no idea. It’s so abnormal.” She put away some of the papers on her desk, tucking them into a drawer to her left. “What did you have in mind?”

            “Nothing specific.” I explained, scratching my beard. “Is there any training to do?”

            She shook her head. “Vilkas completed that earlier this afternoon.”

            “Well, you and I could train! Like we used to in Solitude before—” I didn’t finish as Karalissa looked up at me, an eyebrow raised as she pointed to her growing belly. “Oh.” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Why do you have to be pregnant when I’m bored?”

            She snorted. “Why do you have to be bored when I’m pregnant?” She sighed, placing her own hand against the small of her back. “Want to see something interesting?”

            I squinted at her. “Define ‘interesting’.”

            Karalissa smirked, nodding toward the door as a signal for me to follow. She paused outside of the office door, holding up a finger to tell me to wait as she walked down the hall toward the rooms off to the side. Ignoring her signal, I followed behind her anyway. She knocked twice before opening the door on the left, poking her head in before she opened it wide enough for me to see too.

            Vilkas and Farkas lay side by side on the floor, Vilkas holding Catriona above his head. They didn’t even look up as we opened the door, just continued to babble at my baby. Aela sat on the bed, her back propped up against the footboard and her legs crossed over each other. She was very involved in a book of some sort, the cover old and faded. She looked up at us before nodding toward the twins.

            “Thanks for that.” Aela muttered, rolling her eyes slowly. “And here I thought I was getting a quiet afternoon to myself. Now the boys are rolling around on _my_ floor playing with a baby.”

            “It’s not Cass’ fault that his baby is cute.” Karalissa said simply, a smile on her face.

            Aela snorted, rolling her eyes again. “You’re right. It’s not.” She glared at me, waiting for me to understand her indirect insult.

            “Hey!” I said, a grimace on my face. “I’m cute.”

            Karalissa nearly choked on laughter. “We’re going out through the underforge. Is everyone okay with that?” Aela simply shrugged, while the twins formed barely coherent grunts of confirmation. “Great. We’ll be back in an hour.”

            Aela smirked. “Sure you don’t want to take the baby?”

            Vilkas and Farkas both turned their heads, looking up at me with identical expressions, begging me not to take Cat with me. “She’s fine here, I think.” I said, earning a smile from both of the boys as they turned their attention back to Catriona. “Just be careful with her, okay?”

            “Yeah, yeah.” Farkas muttered, waving me off.

            Karalissa shut the door, shaking her head as she turned back toward the hallway leading upstairs. “Come on, brother.” she said, looking over her shoulder at me. “This is one of my favorite things. I think you’ll like it too.”

            “What’s the underforge?” I asked, following closely behind her.

            “You’ll see.” she said excitedly, beginning to climb the stairs to the mead hall. We both emerged over the railing, greeted by several ‘hellos’ from the Companions, who were cluttered around the table in the center of the room eating their supper. The room was loud and full of laughter. I noticed that Ralof was sitting beside the Nord woman who Aela had beat the snot out of a few years back, both of them eating off of the same plate and giggling stupidly.

            As we passed the group and walked out of the front doors, I turned to Karl. “Is Ralof sweet on that feisty girl?”

            Karalissa snorted. “I think he is.” she confirmed, shaking her head just a little. “It makes sense, I guess. They’re both rather unpleasant separately, but together they’re actually really nice.” She laughed again. “I’m just glad she’s moved on.”

            “From Vilkas?” I asked, furrowing my brow. “Didn’t you say they—”

            “They did.” Karl confirmed. “But I meant Codus.”

            “Which one is that?”

            Karalissa sighed as we approached the rock wall below the Skyforge, checking over her shoulder to make sure we weren’t seen. “Codus is the Imperial; dark brown hair, green eyes, really quiet.”

            “The noodle with the muscles.” I offered, watching as Karl pushed a hidden door open, built into the stone wall.

            “Sure. She really liked him, but he just wasn’t interested in her.” she explained. “He’s too soft spoken, and she’s very in-your-face.”

            “Yeah, that seems like a weird combination.” I said, following Karalissa down the dark hall. “Karl, where the hell are we?”

            She smiled as we entered the large room, an old and dark cauldron in the center of the room. “This is the underforge. It’s where the Circle meets for official werewolf business.”

            I stared into the cauldron as I approached. “Uh, is this blood?”

            “Yeah.” she said, smirking as she passed. “Don’t drink it though, unless you want the Hunting Grounds. Follow me.”

            She led me down another hallway, this one even darker, but a light at the end illuminated just enough to prevent us from stumbling. After a moment, we emerged from the great walkway and into the open, a raised hill on the other side of the walls of Whiterun, overlooking the fields of Skyrim.

            You could see so much from up there; the farms surrounding the city, the lake in the center of the fields, even a few mammoths could be seen, giants walking nonchalantly behind. The birds were chirping, somewhere in the distance, and with the light breeze that blew through our hair and the warm sun on our skin, I realized that this was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever been.

            “Damn.” I stated simply, looking down at my sister. “You weren’t lying.”

            “I wasn’t.” Karalissa beamed, lowering herself slowly to sit on the ground. “I like to come out here to think sometimes. It’s peaceful.”

            I plopped onto the ground beside her, a rather graceless action, but it got the job done. I ran my hand through my hair, pushing it away from my face. “It is peaceful out here. It reminds me of that little field outside of Solitude. Remember? The one with the river and that broken tree?” My fingers caught in a tangle in my hair, and I worked to comb through the knot with my fingers.

            Karalissa smiled at the memory, then laughed as I messed with my hair. “Gods, your hair is so long.”

            My eyes rolled. “Are you saying it looks bad?” I asked, still working with the knot, but growing frustrated.

            “No, no.” she reassured, helping me untangle the strands of dirty hair. “It looks fine. It’s just…long.”

            “What’s the big deal, Karl? My hair was long in the Rift.”

            She snorted. “Well, that was different.” She tugged a strand of my hair, which now reached my shoulder blades. “I guess I’m just used to your hair being shorter than this. It always has been.”

            “My hair was never short.” I reminded her.

            Now her eyes rolled. “Well, I know that. It was just never this long.”

            “Things change, Karl.” I said, leaning back on my palms. “Look at us. We’re not young, homeless warriors anymore. We’re old.”

            Karalissa shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. “Gods be good, we _are_ old.”

            “Just picture it: years from now, we’ll both have a few kids a piece, and we’ll be at some dinner event in the Palace of Kings; some holiday nonsense, I don’t know. You’ll be all gross and wrinkly, and Vilkas with be going through one of those beard phases, but it will be all gray and old. Lydia will be a powerful ruler, and I’ll still be gorgeous, and our kids will be running around, playing whatever games cousins play. We’ll just sit there, the four of us, and we’ll bask in the glory of old age while the little ones scamper around.” I raised an eyebrow. “But you’ll be all gross and wrinkly, so the kids won’t want to be around you. My children will call you ‘Auntie Hagraven’, and you’ll give them nightmares.”

            Karalissa laughed, shoving my shoulder playfully. “You’ll be way grosser than I will, brother. And you’re mean, and you smell bad. So, I’ll probably have to take your children in, just to spare them their nostrils.”

            “I smell great, Karalissa.” I said, lifting my arm and shoving my armpit into her face. “Take a whiff. Bask in that manly musk.”

            “Cass!” she yelled, both laughing and gagging. “You’re disgusting! Get away from me.”

We shared a good laugh at that, and I realized that we hadn’t shared laughter like this in a long time. I sighed, turning to look at my sister. “It’s been a rough life, Karalissa.” I said, offering her a sideways smile. “We haven’t been able to laugh together in a lot of years.”

Karalissa smiled too. “A rough life, sure. But a good one.” Her smile faded after a moment. “Do you ever worry that our children will feel the way we do?”

            I spent a moment to absorb the absolutely raw emotion she expressed. Karalissa wore a solemn face, her eyes dead serious as she stared back at me, waiting for a response. I didn’t have to ask her to elaborate because I already understood, so I shook my head.

“No, Karl. I don’t.” I looked back out at the fields, admiring the beauty in something so rarely gazed upon. “Our children will never feel the way we do. They’ll always feel loved and safe and wanted. They’ll know how much they mean to us.” I looked back at my sister. “They’ll never have to wonder.”

            Karalissa relaxed slightly, a smile returning to her face. It wasn’t her usual smile, but a sad smile, one that wasn’t really a smile at all. “I horrified, Cass. Horrified I won’t do it right.” She looked back out at the view she’d shared with me, her brows furrowing together. “There are so many things I’ve done wrong already, and I don’t want to do this wrong. I don’t want to be a bad mother.”

            “I worried for the same reason, Karl.” I said, earning a curious glance. “Honestly, there’s no right way to do it. There’s no set of rules that tells you exactly what to do. You just figure it out.” I nudged her. “And you always have me. Lydia and I will teach you how to take care of a baby. Gods know we had a time learning.”

            Karl smiled up at me, a real smile this time. “I know, brother. I know I can ask you for anything.” She nodded then, more to herself than to me. “Our children will know. Vilkas and I will never let them forget.”

            “Did we forget?” I asked, not to her directly, but to myself.

            She stared up at me, her eyes curious. “I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything.”

            “Do you want to?”

            She thought for a moment. “Some things.” she said quietly. “And you?”

            “Some things.” I echoed, shaking my head. “I know Ma loves us, Karl.”

            “Ma loves Viarmo.” Karalissa said, looking away from me as she spoke the name.

            I sighed, scratching my beard. “I know. I wish I could explain why things happen the way they do, but I can’t. Maybe we’ll be better parents because we know what not to do.”

            Karalissa shrugged. “You’re probably right.” She smiled then, her eyes hopeful. “And it will be fine because we have each other. Right?”

            “Right.” I promised. “Always.”


	19. A Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brotherhood completes the first contract.
> 
> POV: Arabella

            “Oh…my gods.” I mumbled, staring down at the folded sheets of paper in my hand. I shook my head, trying to make sense of the information I was holding.

            Cicero’s head shot up from behind the chair in front of me, which held our first contract from Ulfric Stormcloak. “What is it?” he asked, standing and walking toward me.

            I held Ulfric’s letter toward the Keeper, offering it to him to read. “Remember how Ulfric said this man beat his children?”

            “Yeah.” Cicero muttered, unimpressed by Ulfric’s actions. Cicero had never said much about his life before the Dark Brotherhood, but hearing the sad stories others told never really phased him. I had a sinking suspicion in my heart that he had endured much worse than anything he’d ever heard, though he never explained much outside of saying his father was a ‘mean drunk’.

            I sighed, tapping the letter. “Flip this page over.”

            He did flip the page, then spent a moment skimming Ulfric’s words until his eyes rested on the names of his children. Cicero’s head flew back as he released a mad man’s cackle, echoing off of the walls around us as he returned his head to a normal position. He shook his head at the letter. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

            I shifted my weight from foot to foot, unsure about what I was supposed to do now that I had the information. Cicero looked up at me, lowering the letter and pointing at me with his index finger. “Don’t do that.”

            I felt my brow furrowing. “Do what?”

            “Consider your options.” he said. “You only have one option, and that’s killing him. And that’s what we’re doing. I don’t care who he’s related to.”

            “He’s not related to anyone.” I said. “He’s her stepfather.”

            Cicero rolled his eyes. “Look, I think it’s all fine and dandy that you’re pals with the tall, annoying Nord, but this is our _job_. This is what we signed up for before we pledged our blades to the Night Mother and our souls to Sithis.”

            “I know that.”

            “So stop thinking so much, babe.” Cicero said, handing the letter back to me. “Besides, would she really care if he died? If what the High King said was true, he beat her. Why would she want him to live?”

            I sighed. “She doesn’t strike me as the type to wish death upon someone.”

            “Well, Ulfric’s already done that for her, hasn’t he?” Cicero countered, kissing my cheek before he walked back to our victim, who was still unconscious in the chair he was tied to.

            I took several deep breaths, trying to level my head. I had absolutely no problem killing people. It was what I was good at, what I was destined to do. And still, I had managed to hardly lift a blade since I took the Emperor’s life. My job, as Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, didn’t stem far from relaying contracts to the assassins and making sure they didn’t kill each other. I didn’t really do much at all anymore, with Cicero overseeing training the recruits and Nazir seated as Speaker of the Dawnstar Sanctuary, which placed him in charge of the sanctuary, really. I was just a spectator now, and that’s how I liked it.

            And yet, here I was, in the abandoned shack that Astrid had brought me to so long ago, standing before a victim with Ulfric’s letter to the man in my hands. I folded it and unfolded it, again and again, nervous to my core because though I’d killed many times, I’d never seen anyone tortured before.

            Cicero was taking the lead on this contract, for which I was grateful, but he was far too excited about it. I was still trying to make sense of the information I had just gathered from the letter. Karalissa had told me she didn’t want to talk about her stepfather, that he’d been a bad person, but she’d never explained the contents of her childhood. My head jerked back as I realized Ulfric Stormcloak was her father. Why it surprised me, I wasn’t sure, but it did.

            “It will be over soon.” Veezara said from beside me. I looked over to him, comforted by the sincerity in his words and his eyes. “All you have to do is read the letter, Arabella. Cicero will take care of the rest.”

            I nodded to him, watching him as he moved to the other side of the shack, perching on top of the same shelf Astrid had sat upon, staring down at me and watching as I, once again, made my choice. Made my kill. Veezara, all the while, would observe, and admire.

            “Listener?” Cicero’s voice said quietly, drawing my attention back to him. He stared at me curiously, having watched my silent interaction with a man he couldn’t see. “Are you alright?” I could hear in his voice that he knew I wasn’t, but he asked anyway.

            I just nodded, unfolding the letter for the final time and gesturing to the man that sat before us. “Wake him.” I instructed, earning an evil grin from the Keeper.

            Cicero slapped the side of the man’s face several times, not exactly lightly, to stir him from unconsciousness. The elf’s eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to adjust to the room just before I imagined he would begin to panic.

            He didn’t, though. He just stared at me, glancing up at Cicero every once in a while as he paced in slow circles around him. Finally, the elf laughed, a low and disturbing sound as he clenched his fists, connected to the wrists bound to his chair.

            “So this is it, then? This is how I’m going to die?” His voice was deep and out of place, not matching his face at all. “Who are you, the Dark Brotherhood?”

            “Yes, actually.” I said, holding the letter up to begin my reading. I stole one more glance at Veezara, who nodded to me encouragingly, before I began to speak Ulfric’s words.

            “Viarmo,” I said, earning a small laugh from the victim. “I imagine you’re tied up or strapped down somewhere, confused and scared. You don’t know who these people are, where they came from, how you got there, or where you are. It has to be intimidating, frightening, to have so many questions and no one to answer them.”

            Viarmo sputtered, confused at the words he was hearing. “What is this about?”

            “You’re probably racking your brain, trying to figure out which of the horrible things you’ve done was bad enough to earn your death.”

            “Enlighten me then, little girl.” Viarmo spat, hatred reflecting off of his eyes as brightly as the low fire smoldering in the corner.

            I ignored him and continued to read. “I want you to know a few pieces of information before the Dark Brotherhood begins whatever they wish to do. The first thing you should know is that I performed the Black Sacrament. I am paying for your death. Quite a bit of gold, too. If my mathematics are correct, and I’m confident that they are, your life is worth exactly twelve thousand septims.”

            “A high price, if you ask me.” Viarmo mumbled, followed by a stream of vulgar profanities directed at me.

            Cicero lost his patience, slamming his fist into Viarmo’s teeth. As Viarmo cried out, blood trickling from his lips as he ran his tongue over the fresh wound, Cicero leaned down to him. “You’ll shut up and listen, if you’re smart.” Viarmo was relatively quiet after that.

            “The next thing you should know is that you and I have never met. We may have been in the same place at the same time on one or two occasions, but we have never spoken and we never will. You probably wonder why a man you don’t know has paid for your death, and this brings me to the final thing that you should know. Fjoli Felstead, your wife, is the mother of my children, Cassius and Karalissa.”

            Viarmo was silent for a moment, and then he began to laugh. The sound was dark and consuming, as though he knew exactly what was coming for him now. He shook his head. “There’s no escaping the two of them. No matter how far they go, they ruin everything.”

            “You understand now, right Viarmo?” I continued for the High King. “You know all of the terrible things you’ve done, all of the pain you’ve caused. I just recently introduced myself to them as their father, and already, I know enough. Not everything, of course, because they struggle not to talk about you, but enough to want you dead.”

            “I don’t give a shit.” Viarmo mumbled, rolling his eyes. The blood from his mouth, made present by Cicero’s blow, had trickled down from his mouth and into his beard, which was tied in a knot below his chin. “I really don’t.”

            “I would have killed you myself, and it took great effort not to. I realized that the Dark Brotherhood has a certain expertise that I do not, and they would do a much better job than I would. And now, as you spend your final moments in the company of these strangers who will end your life for me, I want you to answer the questions for them. Tell them the things you’ve done. Admit to the things that have earned your death.”

            Viarmo laughed again. “I won’t participate in this. Kill me and get it over with.”

            I looked up from the letter, nodding to Cicero to step toward Viarmo. The Keeper did, a blade held in his hand and a crooked smile on his face. I turned to glance at Veezara, who smiled back at me, urging me to continue. Finally, I looked at Viarmo, my head cocked to the side, waiting for an admission of any sort. Ulfric hadn’t provided questions to ask, so we simply waited.

            Viarmo blinked at me, expecting some sort of instruction that he would likely refuse anyway. When he said nothing, I nodded to Cicero, who drove his blade into Viarmo’s arm with an unmeasurable amount of force.

            The elf cried out, recovering quickly and sitting straight in his chair again. He glared at me, an eyebrow raised, daring me to do it again. I did dare, nodding to Cicero just before the Keeper jabbed his dagger into Viarmo’s thigh.

            “Alright!” he cried. “Alright!” his breath was staggered, trying not to show the pain he was obviously in. “What do you want me to say? I never liked them. I wasn’t nice.”

            Cicero stabbed him in the back. Literally, not metaphorically. “Agh! Okay! I hated Cassius! He tried to involve himself in everything. Literally everything. He never stayed out of anyone’s business. I didn’t mind Karalissa, though. She was pleasant.”

            Cicero stuck his knife into his other thigh, cackling quietly as he twisted the blade beneath Viarmo’s flesh. The elf was screaming. “That was a lie! A lie! I hated her more than I hated him. She never…she never reacted to anything I did! Cassius would at least get angry. She just ignored me!”

            Cicero pulled the blade from his leg quickly, then jabbed it into the top of his shoulder. I gagged at the sight, how Cicero could so casually stab a man in places he knew wouldn’t kill him. The blade was dangerously close to his neck, but not close enough. Viarmo began to cry. “I beat their mother. I still do. But I love her, I swear I love her. I try not to, but she makes me so angry, and then I drink, and then I can’t stop, but in the morning I love her again—”

            Cicero drove the dagger into his forearm three times in rapid sucession. Viarmo was screaming and sobbing, shaking from the pain. He’d never been hurt in his life, I could tell, and I had a feeling Cicero could do much worse. “I beat the hell out of Karalissa, once. She was just ignoring me and ignoring me and I was drunk, and I couldn’t stop myself. She told everyone that she tripped hit her face on the door, but Fjoli knew. She saw. I never hurt her like that again, but I didn’t stop.”

            My stomach was somersaulting, threatening to make me vomit as I watched Cicero stab the man in the chest, in the right spot to keep everything beneath intact. “Cassius was going to figure it out, about Karalissa, so I had to try and send him away. He kept involving himself, and I had no choice. He would have killed me!”

            Cicero stabbed him some more, various locations. He didn’t even react to the man screaming beneath his blows, his face indifferent. “I grabbed Karalissa’s face in the middle of the living room once. I finally got her to react, and Cassius beat the shit out of me for it. He nearly killed me, and Fjoli begged him to stop. They never came back.” Viarmo’s mouth was dribbling blood, streaming down his face in sync with the tears from his eyes. “But they did come back. They came back when I wasn’t home. Fjoli thought I wouldn’t find out, but Corpulus told me.”

            I nodded to Cicero, telling him that we’d heard enough. My hands were shaking, but I lifted the letter again to finish reading. Viarmo was crying to himself, mumbling. “I should have stopped. Oh gods, I should have stopped.”

            “Does it feel any better? Does it feel any better to say them out loud, to know that someone else knows?” I read for the High King. “You should know that they’re fine, both married and happy to be away from Solitude. They have families and they have each other, and now they have me. I’m hoping this gives their mother back to them, too, since you took her from them when they needed her. When she needed them.”

            “Karalissa’s married?” Viarmo asked, staring blankly. “She’s far too young. She’s just a child.”

            “I hope this has been beneficial to you in some way, Viarmo. I hope that in your final moments, you felt years of guilt and regret and remorse.”

            “I do.” Viarmo whispered, staring at Cicero. His eyes begged for mercy, and the Keeper laughed. “I feel horrible. I shouldn’t have ever—”

            “I hope that you feel something before this moment, because I do. As I hand the Dark Brotherhood this letter, along with promise of a lot of coin in exchange for your death, I feel guilt and regret and remorse, but not as strongly as I feel relief. Relief that my children will no longer have to exist in a world where you breathe. Relief that they will no longer worry that if they visit their mother, you’ll drive yourself even further between them. Relief that they can feel relieved, that you can’t hurt them anymore.

            And I apologize, for the pain you’ve endured. I apologize for the pain I’ve dealt to you. But I do not apologize for your death. _That_ is deserved. My condolences, Ulfric Stormcloak.”

            I lowered the letter, folding it and placing it on Viarmo’s bloody legs. He stared down at the signature, his mouth agape and his eyes streaming tears. “Ulfric Stormcloak?”

            I nodded to Cicero, who laughed wildly before leaning down to Viarmo’s ear. “Give Sithis a ‘hello’ from poor Cicero.” he whispered. Viarmo’s eyes grew wide, a frantic look crossing his face just he looked for me to help.

            I lowered my head to stare at the ground, unable to watch as Cicero twisted Viarmo’s arm to break it. Viarmo screamed in pain, the sound reverberating off of the walls of the shack and seeping into my skull. I fought the urge to cover my ears as I listened to Cicero laugh, followed shortly after by the loud crack of Viarmo’s other arm.

            He begged for mercy, he screamed for me to help him, and I didn’t move. I couldn’t, because this was my job. I was already failing, because I was supposed to help. I felt tears spring to my eyes, and I quickly turned on my heel and left the shack, shutting the front door behind me.

            Outside, I leaned against the walls near the door, running my hands through my hair and knocking my fists against the side of my head, trying to get a grip. I tried to swallow the sobs as Viarmo screamed, as Cicero laughed, as my vision became blurred by tears. I pushed off of the side of the shack, walking forward a few staggering paces.

            “Breathe, Arabella.” Veezara told me, his hand on my shoulder. I shut my eyes, breathing deeply through my nose and out through my mouth. I shook my head as Viarmo screamed again, the sound ear-splitting and accompanied by snaps and cracks as Cicero broke his other bones. Unable to contain it, I vomited, the bile spilling out onto the white snow.

            “Arabella, stop. You’re okay.” Veezara said, pushing my hair away from my face and wiping my mouth with his bare hand. “You’re an assassin. You can do this.”

            “I’m not an assassin, Veezara.” I said, my voice barely audible over Viarmo’s quieting cries. “I don’t think I’m an assassin anymore.”

            “You are an assassin.” he said to me as I vomited again, the sound of Viarmo’s arms snapping repeating in my head again and again. “You’re just scared.”

            “Of what?” I asked as he wiped my mouth again with his bare hand. I thought the action was disgusting, to have my vomit on his hands and simply smile at me.

            “I don’t know. Of Cicero?”

            I shook my head. “I’m not afraid of Cicero.” I wasn't afraid of Cicero. Was I?

            “Then you’re afraid of letting Mother down.”

            “I already have.” I reminded him. “I’ve failed.”

            Veezara shook his head. “You haven’t—”

            “I have.” I said. “I’m not an assassin.”

            The shack was quiet, then, deafeningly quiet. There wasn’t a sound in the world until Cicero emerged from the shack, blood on his hands and speckled on his chin. He stared at me, assessing my tears and the vomit on my own hands.

            He didn’t say anything, just walked toward me and wiped my hands with a handkerchief from his pocket, which he then tossed into the snow nearby. He stared at me, his eyes confused and concerned, but he didn’t ask. Maybe because he didn’t care. Maybe because he already knew.

            “Is it done?” I asked, unable to think any more about torturing the man, his screams still echoing in my ears.

            Cicero nodded, his expression never changing. “It’s done.”


	20. A Goat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Farkas and Vilkas' birthday, and Karalissa plans to celebrate! Later, the party heads back to Jorrvaskr before Karalissa receives a letter of inheritance.
> 
> POV: Karalissa

            “Villy.” I whispered, shaking Vilkas’ chest to try and wake him. He responded with a loud snore, a sound I’d become accustomed to over the years sharing a bedroom with him. He slept like the dead, and when he woke, he wasn’t usually thrilled to be awake.

            I sighed, a smile still on my face as I shook him gently. “Villy.”

            Vilkas grunted, lifting the pillow over his face just enough to peep at me. Vilkas always slept with a pillow over his head, for whatever reason, and I always thought it was adorable to wake him and watch him peak out from underneath it.

            “Villy.” I said again as he placed the pillow back over his face.

            “What?” he grumbled, swatting my hands away as I tried to remove the pillow.

            I tugged it away from him, tossing it to the other side of the bed. Vilkas covered his face with his arms, and I struggled to pull those away too, leaning down to his face and showering him with playful kisses.

            Vilkas sort of laughed to himself as I moved away from him. “What do you want, Kara?”

            “Guess what day it is.” I said, bouncing with excitement.

            Vilkas sighed. “Twenty-seventh of Sun’s Dawn.”

            I nodded, though his eyes were still closed and he couldn’t see me. “And what’s the twenty-seventh of Sun’s Dawn?” Vilkas grumbled something unintelligible to me, so I tickled his sides. He squirmed, wiggling away from me and further under the covers. I groaned, flopping over on the bed and sprawling over his legs as I made dramatic sounds of exasperation.

            Finally, Vilkas sat up in bed. He stared down at me with tired eyes, his warpaint smudged all around his eyebrows and cheekbones and his hair sticking up in all direction. He grimaced, utterly unenthused. “Kara, you know exactly what the twenty-seventh of Sun’s Dawn is.”

            I made more of the dramatic noises, rolling off of my back and onto my side to face him. I tried my best to convey a pleading look, but Vilkas just laughed, so it must have been rather comical. He shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands and smearing his warpaint even further. “The twenty-seventh of Sun’s Dawn is Farkas’ birthday.” he mumbled, a smile on his face.

            “And?” I asked, sitting up and bouncing again. “Who also has a birthday today?”

            Vilkas groaned, the sound loud and exhausted. “I’m sure there are plenty of people in all of Tamriel with birthdays on the twenty-seventh of Sun’s Dawn.”

            “And of all the people in Tamriel, none of them are quite like you.” I said. “Today is _your_ birthday!” I exclaimed, shaking him by the shoulders.

            “By the gods, I had no idea.” he mumbled, glaring at me and tucking himself back under the covers, not before he grabbed his pillow and placed it back over his head. “I can’t thank you enough for reminding me I was born on the twenty-seventh of Sun’s Dawn. I truly would have forgotten.”

            “Come on, Vilkas!” I whined, bending forward to place my head on his shoulder. “It’s your birthday. You can’t just stay in bed.”

            “I can, actually.” he said, his voice muffled. “And it’s not my birthday. It’s the day I was born. There’s a difference.”

            “No there’s not.”

            “Leave me be, Kara.” Vilkas grumbled. “I don’t celebrate my birthday.”

            I sighed, shoving Vilkas to the middle of the bed and laying right next to him on the edge. “You were right!” I called. Vilkas lifted his pillow in curiosity, staring at me with one opened eye.

            Farkas threw the door open, bounding into the room and flopping onto the bed on the other side of Vilkas. He hummed loudly, snatching the pillow off of Vilkas’ face and tossing it across the room.

            “Damnit!” Vilkas exclaimed, sitting upright in bed. “What’s your problem?” he demanded, whipping his head back and forth to stare at both of us.

            Farkas and I exchanged a look, smirking before we both sat up and wrapped our arms around Vilkas, dragging him back down to lay beside us. We both hugged him and sang a birthday song to him, or a particularly off-key rendition of a birthday song. All the while, as we cuddled him and sang to him, Vilkas stared at the ceiling with a hopeless look on his face, as if he were asking the gods what he did to deserve such punishment.

            After we sang the song nearly three times, Vilkas interrupted, wiggling away from both of us and rolling onto his side to face me. He glared at me, his jaw set in irritation but his eyes were soft. I knew he wasn’t really angry with us, but it was his shtick and he was sticking to it.

            “What is wrong with you?” he asked me, his voice faltering slightly as he struggled to suppress a laugh.

            “You’re such a grump.” I noted, shaking my head. “Farkas and I have been up for hours, and you’re up here snoring and pouting and scowling.”

            “I was sleeping.” Vilkas said, rolling onto his back again. The three of us stared up at the ceiling, smiling to ourselves. “How long has Farkas been here?”

            “A long time.” I said, looking up at him. “Were you dreaming?”

            “Aye.” he said, shutting his eyes again.

            Farkas propped himself up on his elbow, staring down at his older brother. “What did you dream?”

            Vilkas opened his eyes, releasing a long sigh as he gave up hope that we would leave him alone. “I was dreaming a rather nice dream before I was interrupted.” he began, shooting me a playful glance. “I dreamt that Kara and I were walking through the woods together, and Kara was pointing at different leaves and coming up with stories about why some leaves were shaped a certain way and others weren’t.”

            “Were any of them good stories?” I asked, utterly intrigued because that really sounded like something I would do.

            “No.” Vilkas said, a smile on his face. “But it was a good dream.”

            “Sounds weird to me.” I said, resting my head against Vilkas’ shoulder for a moment before I lifted my head to look at Farkas. “What about you? Did you dream?”

            Farkas smiled. “I did, yeah. I was having this weird dream.” He lifted his head to look at me. “I was trying to buy a goat, but no one would sell me one. So eventually I just stole one from the woods and brought it back to Jorrvaskr. I built a cage for it in the courtyard and I fed it every morning.” Farkas sighed. “His name was Bart.”

            “Bart.” I echoed, nudging Vilkas. “We should name our child Bart.” Vilkas rolled his eyes, shaking his head in dismissal of my joke before he shut his eyes again. Then I looked back over at Farkas. “Is it actually stealing a goat if it wasn’t owned before?”

            “I stole it from the woods.” he said.

            “Well, yeah. But the woods can’t own anything. Can it?”

            “I don’t know. Maybe I just took it from its family. That’s stealing, right?”

            “That sounds more like kidnapping.”

            “Goatnapping.” Farkas said, and we both laughed. “Do you think if I really got a goat, we could keep it at Jorrvaskr?”

            “I don’t see why not.” I said, then reassessed. “Well, there isn’t much grass out there.”

            “Couldn’t I pick grass and give it to Bart?”

            “Oh! Yeah, you could! Or maybe we could grow grass.”

            “That’s a good idea, Lissa! Wait, how do you grow grass?”

            “I don’t know. Maybe you have to…plant it?” I said, scratching my head.

            “Oh my gods.” Vilkas interrupted. “There’s not a real goat. This conversation is so annoying.”

            Farkas laughed. “Well do _you_ know how to plant grass?”

            “I’m a warrior, not a farmer. Ask Pelagia.” Vilkas countered.

            “Bleh!” I grumbled, sticking my tongue out. “I hate that man.”

            “We know.” Farkas and Vilkas muttered in unison.

            Farkas sighed. “Well, I just won’t get a goat.” He looked over at me. “What did you dream, Lissa?”

            I shook my head. “I never dream. Vilkas says that makes me weird.”

            “That is weird.” he agreed, laying on his back again. “Why don’t you dream?”

            “I don’t know. I just never have.”

            “Does Cassius dream?”

            I furrowed my brow. “You know, I’ve never asked. Maybe he doesn’t.”

            “What about Lydia? Does Lydia dream?”

            “I don’t know!” I exclaimed, running my hands over my face in exasperation. “These are the important questions! Why haven’t I asked?”

            “Aela dreams a lot.” Farkas noted. “Do you think Codus dreams?”

            “He probably does. Torvar probably does too.”

            Vilkas released a long sigh. “Why is Farkas here?”

            “Because you wouldn’t wake up.” I said.

            Farkas nodded, sort of wiggling in his spot. “This bed is really comfy.”

            “No.” Vilkas said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I mean why is he _here_? In the house.”

            “Because it’s your birthday!” I shouted kicking my feet. “It’s both of your birthdays and we’re celebrating!”

            “Yay!” Farkas shouted. “We’re having a birthday party!”

            Vilkas rolled toward me again. “Kara, I’m a twenty-nine year old man. I’m too old for a birthday party.”

            “You threw me a birthday party last year.” I countered.

            “You’re not even twenty-five yet, Kara.” He rolled onto his back again. “I hate celebrating my birthday. You know that.”

            “Fine.” I said, propping myself up on my elbow to stare down at him. “Then it will be just Farkas’ party. You can just come to celebrate his birthday.”

            “Yeah, because I’m not too old for a birthday party.” Farkas said.

            Vilkas shook his head. “This is by far the most annoying thing you two have ever—”

            His sentence was cut short as Aela flung herself onto the bed too, hopping over Farkas and wiggling in between the twins. I laughed as she joined us, simply because Vilkas was getting so annoyed for no reason.

            “Agh!” Vilkas cried out. “Your feet are cold, Aela.”

            “Hi, Vilkas!” Aela shouted, pressing her feet against Vilkas’ leg and causing him to squirm closer to me. Farkas and I were just barely in the bed anymore, as it wasn’t built to support four large Nords.

            “Hello, Aela.” Vilkas muttered, turning toward me. “Anyone else in the house? Is Codus down there too? Should we invite him to join?”

            “I could run and get him, if you’d like.” I offered, but Vilkas just rolled his eyes.

            “Why are you two here?” he asked, turning beck over to face Aela and Farkas.

            Aela shrugged, and Farkas rested his head on her shoulder. “Lissa made us breakfast.” he said simply.

            Vilkas snorted. “Kara cooked?”

            Aela nodded. “Yep. She made hot chocolate, too. And she’s going to have to make more, because I drank it all.”

            Vilkas raised his eyebrows. “Well, I don’t really care for hot chocolate—”

            “I know that.” I said, booping his nose with my index finger. “There’s black coffee down there, too. Black as the depths of Oblivion, a warrior's preferred breakfast beverage.” I mocked Vilkas’ accent as I said the last sentence, earning cackles of laughter from Aela and Farkas.

            Vilkas sighed, laughing to himself. “You’re very funny, Kara.” He sat up in bed, climbing over me and placing his feet on the floor. “Alright, get out of my bed, all of you. Let’s have breakfast.”

           

 

            I leaned against my brother’s shoulder as we laughed wildly at Farkas, who had attempted to climb the Skyforge without using the steps. He was nearly to the top when his hand slipped off of the rocky wall, and he fell flat on his back in what little grass the courtyard had.

            Aela and Vilkas laughed loudly, the sound echoing throughout all of Whiterun as they slammed their fists on the table and flailed. My brother joined them, his laugh booming in rhythm with the thunder that cracked through the sky above us.

            I pushed away from the table, hopping out of my chair and dashing toward Farkas, who had propped himself up on his elbows to look at me. I extended my hand to pull him off of the ground. “Are you alright?” I asked him, several water droplets hitting my head as the sky opened up above us.

            Farkas took my hand, but ultimately pulled himself off of the ground. He put his arm around my shoulders, walking me back to the covered patio area of the courtyard. “Get out of the rain, Lissa. Don’t worry about me.”

            As we walked back to the rest of the group, still laughing like madmen, I stared up at Farkas. “You’re not hurt though, right?”

            “Nah.” he confirmed, a smile on his face. “They’re laughing, so I did exactly what I meant to.”

            I shook my head at that as we walked up the steps. Cassius pulled out the chair beside him again for me to sit, and Farkas plopped down beside his brother.

            “That wasn’t the smartest thing you could have done.” Vilkas noted, pushing a mug of mead toward Farkas.

            Farkas simply shrugged. “Well, now I know I can’t do it.” He took a long swig of the liquor.

            I shook my head again. “You could probably do it. It’s just raining, so the rocks are wet.”

            “You’re right, Lissa.” Farkas said, nodding to me with a determined look on his face. “I’ll try again when it’s dry.”

            Cassius smiled as Lydia returned from changing Cat, who was resting happily on her hip. Before she took her seat on the other side of Cassius, Lydia handed Catriona to Vilkas, whose face lit up the moment the baby was in his arms.

            Aela scowled. “I don’t understand this, you know.” she said, leaning against her palm as she looked over at me. “Since when does he like babies so much?”

            “Beats me.” I responded, shaking my head. “It was a complete surprise to me.”

            “Moody, emotional, angry Vilkas has a soft spot for babies.” Aela said, crossing her eyes at the last word. “So weird.”

            I smirked at my husband as I placed a hand over my stomach, which was ever visible beneath my sweater. “He’ll be a good father.”

            Vilkas beamed at me, and though I could no longer feel his emotions, I knew his chest was swelling at the words. He nudged his brother. “And Farkas will be a good uncle.”

            “I will.” Farkas said, pushing his wet hair away from his face. “Cassius and I are going to teach your children how to be as badass as we are.”

            “You’re damned right.” Cass said, his arm around Lydia’s shoulders.

            Vilkas furrowed his brow, setting Catriona on Farkas’ lap and pulling the worn, brown book he’d been carrying around for a week from the satchel behind him. “Cass, I was hoping you would look at this for me.”

            “Sure, brother.” Cassius said, leaning forward to observe the book as Vilkas extended it to him. “What is it?”

            “We found this in Ysgramor’s tomb when we cured ourselves.” he said quietly, looking up at me quickly, then looking back down at the book.

            “Vilkas!” I exclaimed, furrowing my brow. “You took a book from Ysgramor’s shrine?”

            “Not just a book, Kara. _The_ book.” He pointed to the same page he showed me in the tomb. “I really want to know what these markings mean.”

            “You stole from Ysgramor.” I said, leaning back in my chair, shaking my head in mock disappointment as the rain around us became heavier.

            “I just…I need to know.” Vilkas said, shrugging. “These markings look similar to something Cassius showed me before.” He pointed to the book again, handing it to Cassius.

            Cass stared at it for a moment, scratching the chin that was hidden beneath his thick beard. “Yeah, Vil. This is Dovahzul.”

            “Dovahzhul?” Aela asked, her nose wrinkled in confusion.

            Cass nodded. “It’s the language spoken by dragons.” He inhaled deeply and exhaled loudly as he thought. “This is sort of a rough translation. Some of the markings are misplaced, but I want to assume it says ‘born of dragon blood’.”

            Vilkas nodded, flipping a page to show him the same journal entry from before. “Was Ysgramor Dragonborn, Cass?”

            Cassius jerked his head back. “You know, I have no idea. I’m not the right person to ask.” He looked up at Vilkas. “I’ll take you to High Hrothgar. Arngeir would know, and if he doesn’t, Paarthurnax certainly would.”

            Farkas pouted. “I want to talk to a dragon.”

            “You can come too.” Vilkas said.

            “Neither of you can talk to Paarthurnax.” Cassius said. “You have to know a certain shout to clear the winds to scale the mountain. Unless either of you can shout, you can’t get up there.”

            Vilkas shrugged in defeat. “Well, that’s okay. I’d just never heard anything about Ysgramor being Dragonborn.”

            “I’ll do some research.” Cass promised.

            Vilkas nodded to him. “Thank you.”

            As Aela began to talk about something I wasn’t quite listening to, I watched as a courier rounded the corner of the courtyard in the rain, dashing to the cover of the patio we sat under. We all turned our attention to him as he wiped the water off of his arms and reached into his satchel.

            “Karalissa Felstead?” he asked, still rummaging through his bag.

            I raised my hand a little. “That’s me.”

            “Got something I’m supposed to deliver. Your hands only. Something about a…letter of inheritance.”

            I glanced at Cass, who stared in both annoyance at the courier in general, and in confusion, because if I inherited something, he should have too. At least in our minds. Then, I glanced at Vilkas, who watched me curiously, unsure of how he should react. Someone had died. I pursed my lips, silently praying that it wasn’t someone I cared about. Someone from Riften, maybe, if Cass wasn’t involved. My heart sunk at the thought of Talen-Jei or Keerava or even Marc dead.

            Finally, he produced a letter, which was bit damp. He looked down at the seal, then frowned. The courier offered me an apologetic smile as he handed it to me, just before turning on his heel and leaving the way he came.

            I held it in my hands, the wet paper with the seal of Solitude on the front. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach, knowing that there was only one person in Solitude who I would be notified of if they died.

I glanced at Cass, who stared down at the letter and then up at me. I saw tears form in his eyes, thinking the same thing I was thinking. “This can’t be right.” he said. “She can’t be gone.”

            I shook my head as everyone turned toward me to watch me open the letter. I undid the seal, sliding my finger beneath the fold and opening it to reveal the information. As I read the name, the number, my heart sunk one final time, sending shivers across my body as my heart shot back up into my throat. I swallowed around it as I read the letter, reread the letter, read it one more time.

            And then, for whatever reason, I was angry. I wasn’t even sure why I was so mad, but I was. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the edges of the letter, and all I wanted was to simply ignore the letter. I wished I could have never read it. I wished I could have never received it. I wanted it to go away, to be out of my thoughts and my sight and my hands.

Unable to look at it anymore, I handed it to Cassius. I stood from my chair, walking slowly toward the edge of the patio. I folded my arms across my chest, leaning against the wooden beam supporting the roof that shielded us from the downpour. I stood there silently, staring out into the rain as I waited for my brother to read the letter for himself.

            “Viarmo’s dead.” he finally mumbled, the words causing tears to spring to my eyes, though I couldn’t understand why. The patio was silent for a long time, everyone thinking to themselves.

            “Who’s Viarmo again?” Aela asked, unapologetic in her tone. I knew Farkas wasn’t quite sure either, but he was silent.

            No one answered her, but I listened as someone pushed their chair out to stand and walk toward me. Moments later, Vilkas was beside me. He pushed my hair away from my face, clearing a spot to place a soft kiss against the side of my jaw. I couldn’t look at him, embarrassed that my lower lip quivered as I tried to suppress my tears.

            I shouldn’t have cried. I didn’t care that he was dead, but I did. I hated him, but I didn’t. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel, but I was overwhelmed. I hated him. I hated Viarmo. But that didn’t mean I wanted him to die. Ma loved him, and he was gone. She was alone, and she wouldn’t be alone if we hadn’t left her.

            “Cassius.” I heard Lydia’s voice behind me, quiet as she tried to get my brother’s attention. “You didn’t get a letter.”

            I heard Cass’ voice next. “No, I didn’t.” His voice cracked at the last word as he tried to stifle his laughter.

            Vilkas wiped the tears away from my face, placing his hands on my arms and giving me a gentle squeeze. But I still couldn’t look up at him, embarrassed again as I began to laugh. The sound startled Vilkas for just a moment, and I felt his back stiffen as I produced low, throaty laughs. Then, he placed his hand on my shoulder.

            “Kara?” he said, his accent thick and accentuating the ‘R’ in my name. I shrugged away from him, stumbling forward and walking out into the rain, laughing uncontrollably now. I continued to laugh as I stared up into the rain, into the sky above me that had opened up and released all of its built up anger and sadness as I was doing, allowing it to pour down on me and cleanse the indignation that had radiated from my flesh for so long.

            I heard Vilkas calling my name, but he was silent after I outstretched my arms, leaning my head back and letting the rain flow over me, soaking my hair and my sweater and my bare feet. I laughed even louder as I thought of the fact that we had to travel to Solitude, to comfort Ma, because she’s the only one who would mourn his loss. I pushed my hair out of my face, now soaked and dripping and tangled, but I didn’t care.

            I heard loud footsteps, splashing in the puddles on the ground as they approached. I turned to see my brother, his long hair now slicked back and his beard dripping. He, too, was laughing as we embraced both the pain and the utter relief we felt. We stood silently for a moment, just a short moment, before we threw our arms around each other.

            We held each other there, in the rain, laughing and crying because it was ten years ago that Ma married Viarmo. It was nine years ago that they returned from travel and he started to beat her. It was eight years ago that Cassius was expelled, and then reenrolled in the Bard’s College. It was seven years ago that Viarmo hit me for the first time. It was six years ago that Viarmo signed Cass up for the Legion, which he refused again and again because he didn’t want to be away from me. It was five years ago that we left Ma behind to get away from him. It was four years ago that my brother and I were separated. It was three years ago that Viarmo came to Whiterun, demanding we come home. It was two years ago that we actually visited Ma, prepared to fight with Viarmo again.

            And it was now that we stood in the rain, in utter hysterics because it was finished. There was nothing else to add to that part of our story, simply because he no longer existed. He had been erased from every corner of the world, every possible place he could be hiding.

            Cassius pulled away from me, just enough to look down at me and smile. “It’s over, isn’t it? It’s over, Karl.”

            I rested my head against his shoulder again, smiling and laughing and sobbing all at the same time. “It is, Cass. It’s over.”


	21. A Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassius and Karalissa bring their families to Solitude to visit their mother after they receive word of Viarmo's death.
> 
> POV: Cassius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahah hey lads and lassies.
> 
> Sorry for NOT UPDATING FOR LIKE A SOLID WEEK!! I've been hella busy with school work and actual work, and I was trying to finish Walk with the Shadows, but literally I have so much planned for this series, I had to stop. I missed my Companions.
> 
> But haha yeah I'm back and here's the fic.

            I clung my daughter as we walked through the gates of Solitude, three of us dressed in black out of respect for Ma. Karalissa, however, was wearing a soft gray sweater, since she couldn’t wear her black sweater, Vilkas’ was too ‘scratchy’, mine smelled like baby, and she didn’t want to wear mourner’s attire. She walked ahead of me and Lydia, her fingers entwined in Vilkas’ and her other hand on his upper arm, clutching him as close to her as she could possibly get.

            Lydia and I walked a few paces behind them, side by side but not holding hands. We would have, if we could, but I was holding Cat and Lydia refused to let Vilkas carry all of the bags, as he’d offered. He did carry all of our overnight bags, but Lydia lugged the big, pink baby bag over her shoulder and did it with a smile.

            As we passed, the shopkeepers that recognized us stopped Karalissa to give their condolences or shook my hand and drooled over my baby. After a few stops though, we’d opted to wave and simply keep walking, Proudspire Manor our destination, and we were ready to get this over with.

            Karalissa and I had discussed several things in the wagon, the first being that we wouldn’t turn this into an ordeal of accusation. We had a lot of things to say to our mother, and we planned to stay for several days to help her cope with Viarmo’s death and talk about Ulfric, but she was fragile. She always had been.

            When we finally approached the steps to our childhood home, Karalissa stopped. She looked over her shoulder at me, silently asking for reassurance.

            “Go on.” I said with a smile. Karalissa was worried Ma would be angry with us, because she didn’t know so much about our lives. I knew she wouldn’t be at all, but Karalissa needed a little confirmation every once in a while.

            She took a breath, looking up at Vilkas for just a moment before she finally walked up the steps. I had expected her to knock, but Karalissa opened the unlocked door and walked right inside. Vilkas glanced back at me, shrugging before we all followed in behind her.

            I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to see, but it wasn’t Karalissa and Ma in a stand-off in the middle of the living room. It wasn’t intimidating, or even angry; they just stood and stared at each other. Ma wore mourner’s attire, excluding the hat, and she had dark bags under her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept in days. Though we all looked at her, wondering what was happening, she only stared at Karalissa.

            After a moment, Karl stumbled forward, wrapping her arms around Ma’s shoulders and squeezing her tightly. Ma hugged her back as Karalissa pressed her face into her shoulder, placing a hand against the back of Karalissa’s head to smooth her hair and hold her close.

            “I’m sorry he’s gone, Ma.” I could just barely hear Karalissa speak.

            Ma smiled. “Don’t be sorry. _I’m_ sorry.”

            And just like that, Karalissa’s face relaxed entirely. All of the pain and the anger, the sorrow she’d felt before we arrived melted away instantly as our mother held her. It was nearly ten years coming, the relief, and it hit her hard. She shut her eyes, smiling a kind of smile I’d never seen before. She wasn’t happy, she just felt at peace.

            “I am, too.” Karalissa mumbled. She straightened up then, placing one hand against her own back and reaching for Vilkas with the other. “Ma, you remember Vilkas, right?”

            Ma beamed as Vilkas stepped forward. “Of course I do.”

            As Vilkas joined them, a soft smile on his face, Karalissa tugged the necklace from beneath her sweater to expose her wedding band. “We’re married.” Karalissa explained.

            Ma looked down at Karalissa’s stomach, which stretched the fabric of her sweater around it. “You’re a little more than married, Karalissa.” She laughed, but she hugged Vilkas. “If I’d known you all were coming, I would have cleaned up.”

            “The house is spotless, Ma.” I said, stepping into the room with my hand against Lydia’s back, guiding her with me.

            I laughed as Ma covered her mouth with her hand, surprised at the sight of me with a child on my hip. “Oh my gods! Cassius!” She extended her arms, not for a hug, but to take Cat from my hip and hold her.

            “Hi, Ma.” I said, putting my arm around my mother’s shoulders. “Lydia and I have a baby. Karl’s not the _only_ one with good news.”

            Ma stared down at Cat in wonder and awe. “She’s beautiful, Cassius.” she said, looking up at my wife. “She looks exactly like Lydia.”

            Lydia smiled, taking my mother’s hand when she extended it to her, and she gave it a quick squeeze before she released it. “Her name is Catriona.”

“Oh my gods. Catriona.” Ma laughed along with Cat as she stared up at my mother, big blue eyes twinkling as she grinned a toothless baby-grin. Ma looked around at all of us. “Where have you all come from? Whiterun?”

            “Yes, Ma.” Karalissa said.

            “Well, have you eaten?” Ma asked, walking toward the kitchen with Cat in her arms still. “I can make you all something. If you want to sit—”

            “Don’t worry about that, Ma.” I called as we all followed behind her. “Sit down. Hold the baby, Grandma.”

            “Oh, I love hearing that.” Ma said, sitting at the large dining room table, which hadn’t changed locations since we left home. We all followed suit, sitting at different chairs all around the table. “How old is she?”

            “A little over a year.” Lydia said, a soft smile on her face.

            Ma held Cat’s hands in her own. “She’s perfect.”

            “I know.” I said, leaning against the palm of my hand as I watched my mother hold my daughter for the first time.

            “I’ve missed so much.” Ma said quietly, shaking her head. She looked up at me after a moment. “Cass, there’s something I have to ask you.”

            “Ma, you’re supposed to be grieving.” Karalissa said, her hand over Vilkas’ on the surface of the table. “We have plenty of time to talk.”

            Ma shook her head. “I don’t want to grieve anymore.” she said, rather matter-of-factly. “I placed him as priority for long enough. I want to talk about all of you first.”

            Karalissa and I exchanged a look, a curious glance that said all it needed to without speaking. I turned back to Ma. “Okay, Ma. Whatever you want.” I took a breath. “What’s your question?”

            Ma furrowed her brow, but she continued to smile at my daughter as she spoke. “There was a battle here in Solitude, a little more than a year ago. The Stormcloaks took the city, they won the war.” She looked back up at me. “I saw someone in the crowd when the High King made a speech. He said that the Dragonborn had fought beside him. The man in the Dragonborn’s helmet looked just like you.”

            I nodded. “Is that your question?”

            “Yes.” Ma said. “Are you the Dragonborn?”

            I smiled. “I am.”

            Ma nodded slowly. “I know you two weren’t here, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care where you were, or what was happening. I followed what little information I could find.” She looked up at Lydia. “You’re the Jarl of Windhelm. It was in the paper.”

            “Yes ma’am.” Lydia said, nodding to my mother.

            “Please, I hope you and Vilkas will both call me Fjoli.” Lydia and Vilkas nodded to her. Ma looked between me and Karalissa. “You fought in the war with him, and he seated Lydia in his throne.”

            “We’re close with the High King, yes.” I said, glancing at Karalissa.

            Karalissa turned to look at our mother, who sat beside her. She placed her hand over Ma’s. “You were close with the High King once, too.”

            Ma looked down at Catriona again, who smiled happily, oblivious to the conversation happening around her. After a moment in silence, she squeezed Karalissa’s hand. “You know, then? You know he’s your father?”

            My back relaxed, the final confirmation to Ulfric’s admission out in the open. “Yes, we know he’s our father.”

            Ma looked up at us again. “How did you figure it out? He told you?”

            Karalissa smiled. “Galmar made him, but yes. Ulfric told us.”

            “Ulfric.” Ma echoed, smiling as she said the name. Then, she laughed. “He’s a good man, Ulfric. How long have you known?”

            “Just a few months.” I said. “I knew him for a long time, before that, but he told us last year, in the late months.”

            “How long have you known him?” Ma asked.

            I cleared my throat. “Ulfric and I rode in the same wagon to Helgen. I escorted him back to Windhelm after the dragon attack. Then, we fought beside him in the war. Me and Lydia and Vilkas.”

            “I’m sorry I told you he was dead.” she said. “If you knew Ulfric was your father, it wouldn’t have been…safe for you. He was captured, and the Thalmor followed him—”

            “It’s okay, Ma.” Karalissa said. “He told us everything. We aren’t angry with either of you.”

            Ma shook her head at Karalissa. “You should be angry with me. You should be angry with me for a lot of things. The things I didn’t tell you, the things Viarmo did—”

            “I said it’s okay, Ma.” Karalissa interrupted again. “Everything that happened is okay.”

            “It’s not okay.” Ma said, her voice on edge. “Nothing that happened was okay, and it was my job to stop him. I didn’t.” She turned to Karalissa fully. “I’m sorry I let him hurt you, Karalissa. I didn’t…I was afraid of him. Afraid to make him angrier than he already was. I should have stepped in front of him and made him stop, because what you endured was something a child should have never endured.”

            “Ma, please stop apologizing.” Karalissa said, putting her hand on the side of our mother’s face. “I spent a long time being angry, and I can’t be anymore. You endured far worse than I did. I appreciate your apology, and I accept it, but I don’t want you to feel sorry anymore. You loved him, Ma, and you need to grieve.”

            She nodded. “I have grieved. I’ve grieved for years and years, and I don’t want to anymore.” She reached for my hand, and I took it. “I want to hear the things I’ve missed. I want to know everything that’s happened.”

            Karalissa and I exchanged a final glance, and then I nodded. “Okay, Ma. Where do you want us to start?”

 

 

            The remainder of the day was spent in the kitchen, all of us sitting in the same spots as we chose when we arrived. I told Ma my very long Dragonborn tale. Lydia told her the story of how we fell in love, and how she became the Jarl of Windhelm. Vilkas told her stories from the war, little stories about Karalissa and the things she’d done for the Companions. My sister told her the story of how she became the Harbinger, and how she and Vilkas had met and loved each other instantly. It was a long day, but it was good, and it seemed to be exactly what Ma needed.

            Around supper time, Ma had insisted she get up and make something for us to eat, as we still hadn’t eaten since we arrived in Solitude, but we all reminded her that her husband had died, and she shouldn’t have to cook. So instead, Vilkas and I cooked a nice stew for dinner in my mother’s kitchen, listening to Karalissa tell some long story about Farkas that didn’t even make any sense.

            After we had all eaten and the kitchen was clean, we’d gone up to the balcony, where we’d all sat the last time we visited Ma. I held Cat, who had fallen asleep after being fed at supper, and as I looked out at the sun setting over Solitude, I felt a pang of worry in my chest. I sat up straight, then processed that I had nothing to be worried about at all, and relaxed again.

            “What was that, brother?” Karalissa asked, her tone poking fun but her eyes curious. She sat on a bench with Vilkas, who had his arm around her shoulders.

            I shook my head, sort of laughing to myself. “It’s hard to explain. I just felt the urge to…behave myself, for some reason.”

            “Well, you were rarely well-behaved when you lived here.” Ma said, patting my back. “You were probably reminded of that.”

            “I wasn’t so bad.” I said, tightening the blanket around Cat.

            “You got expelled.” Karalissa said.

            Ma nodded. “Twice.”

            “And you’re not allowed in the Radiant Raiment.” Karalissa added.

            I snorted. “That wasn’t my fault.”

            “What about Corpulus’ mead, from the Burning of King Olaf when you were nineteen?” Ma asked, squinting at me in mock accusation.

            “Oh.” Karalissa said. “That was me.”

            “Yeah, I took the blame for that one.” I said with a laugh. “Karl was already in trouble with Viarmo, so I took the fall.”

            “Karalissa!” Ma exclaimed, which made Vilkas laugh quietly.

            “It was an accident!” my sister cried, laughter breaking her words. Then, she shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t _really_ an accident. But I took the blame when Cassius set the curtains of the lesson room in the college on fire!”

            “You did what?” Ma asked, laughing loudly. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in a long time.

            I raised one of my hands in defense. “That was one hundred percent accident.”

            Ma shook her head. “You know, Sorex came by yesterday. Brought some supper and said he was sorry about your Pa.”

            “Sorex.” Karalissa echoed, shaking her head.

            “He was a nice young man.” Ma said. “Until Cassius corrupted him.”

            Lydia laughed at that, and I gave her a playful nudge. “I wasn’t that bad!” She just shook her head, so I continued. “I always hated that. Viarmo wasn’t our ‘Pa’. Sorex and Corpulus both called him that.”

            Ma shrugged. “They didn’t know any better. They were trying to be nice.” She sighed then, looking to change the subject from Viarmo. “Don’t tell me you call Ulfric ‘Pa’.”

            I snorted. “No. We call him Ulfric.”

            Ma smiled. “You called him Pa when you were little, Cass. He loved it.”

            “Did it hurt you when he left, Ma?” Karalissa asked, sitting up as she waited for an answer.

            Ma’s smile faltered slightly. “Well, yes. But I knew he would leave me eventually. He was a warrior. He always was. And with all that was happening in the war, I couldn’t make him stay. He was…passionate.”

            “He still is.” I said.

            “Oh, I have no doubt.” Ma laughed. “He took an entire country for himself.”

            “Do you ever miss him?” Lydia asked, leaning against her palm.

            Ma sighed. “Often. He was my very best friend, and I would have married him if he’d asked. But I love the two of you more than I loved him. I do miss him, though. He’s a good man, under the ‘tough-Nord-who-never-stops-fighting’ bravado.” She winked at me. “Just like you.”

            Karalissa laughed. “Well, why don’t you visit him? He lives at Northshore Castle. Cass and I have been there once or twice.”

            “He lives up there all by himself?” Ma asked, her brow furrowed.

            I shook my head. “No, Galmar lives with him. And guards, you know.”

            Ma smiled. “That’s the other reason I could never make him stay. He always loved someone else.”

            I jerked my head back in confusion, because I had thought Ulfric was only with Ma for those years, then he left. I had imagined a lot of ladies liked Ulfric, but I didn’t think he had left her for someone else. “There was someone else? He never told us that.”

            Karalissa smirked at me, nodding. “Yes he did, brother. He said it thousands of times, just not directly.” She turned back to Ma. “You’re talking about Galmar, aren’t you?”

            “The one who dresses like a bear?” she asked. When Karl nodded, so did she. “Galmar. That’s the one.” She sighed. “He never had to say it. It was just something I knew.”

            “Ulfric and…Galmar?” I asked, looking around at everyone, who seemed unfazed by the news. “Am I the only one who didn’t catch that?”

            “Yes.” Karl, Vilkas, and Lyd all said in unison.

            I raised my eyebrows. “Huh.” I shrugged. “Well, good for them.”

            Ma smiled, inhaling deeply and exhaling loudly. She looked around at all of us, a smile on her face. “This is the most I’ve talked in a long time.” she said simply, shrugging and looking back out at the city below us.

            I furrowed my brow. “What does that mean?”

            She shrugged again. “I had no one to talk to. I’m really happy you all came.” She looked back at me, her face confused. “How did you two know? I was actually thinking this morning that I could finally write to you both and ask to come see you.”

            Karalissa nudged Vilkas, who pulled the letter of inheritance from his pocket and handed it to Karl. She stood, her hand on her stomach, and sort of hobbled to sit beside Ma. She set the letter on the table. “This is how.”

            Ma took a moment to read the letter, her brow clenching as she grew increasingly confused. “Viarmo…left you money.”

            Karalissa nodded. “I was actually hoping you could explain that.”

            “Seven thousand septims.” Ma mumbled. “That’s more than he left me.”

            I felt anger rupture in my chest. “What the hell? Why did Karl get so much money, then?”

            Ma shook her head. “How much did he leave you, Cassius?”

            I snorted. “Nothing. I didn’t get a letter.”

            Ma handed the letter back to Karalissa. “I don’t know. Maybe he felt…guilty.”

            “Guilty for what?” I asked, my mouth twisted into a scowl. Nobody answered me, but Karalissa smiled half-heartedly at me. I shook my head. Karalissa stood from her seat and returned to Vilkas, who greeted her with a soft smile and open arms.

            Ma never tried to explain it or make sense of it, but she looked up at the sky again and smiled. “If you had to choose the happiest moment you’ve ever felt, the moment where…you could die and you wouldn’t feel an ounce of remorse about it, what moment would it be?”

            We all spent a moment in thought, searching our minds and our souls for the answer. Lydia was the first to speak. “Mine is sort of silly.”

            Ma smiled. “I want to hear it anyway.”

            Lydia smirked, just a little. “After Cass and I were married, we traveled all over Skyrim to see places we’d never seen and adventure together, but we were also looking for Karalissa. They’d been separated for a little more than a year, and since Cass had nothing holding him back anymore, we wanted to find her together. I wanted to help him find her.

            “There was one afternoon where we had walked all over the Rift, the entirety of the hold, looking for anything that could point us in the right direction. We’d gone into the city and asked if anyone knew her, but I guess we asked the wrong people. Cass had gotten frustrated, and we’d left the city and we’d gone out to this field and just laid in the grass.

            “The happiest moment of my life was when we were laying there, and I don’t know why, because Cass wasn’t happy at all. He was grumbling and cursing, partly because he was exhausted and partly because the wind was whipping his hair around. But I just watched him as he looked up at the sky, and it was like there was no one in the world but us for just a few moments.” She shrugged, her smiling her own private smile before she turned to me. I kissed her shoulder, then pressed my forehead against her cheek.

            “What about you, Cassius?” my mother asked, still smiling at Lydia’s story.

            “Mm.” I mumbled, thinking. “The happiest moment of my life was…do you remember the day before the ambush in Dawnstar?” I asked no one in particular, but received a grunt of acknowledgment from Vilkas and a nod from Lyd and Karl. “Just before I received that letter from Ulfric, the five of us were sitting on the balcony at Lakeview, and we were all looking out at the lake. It was right after we’d spent the day building furniture for the balcony, and Farkas was leaning against the rail, and Lydia was pregnant with Cat, and Karalissa was sitting with Vilkas.

            “It was a moment just before everything turned to shit, and maybe that’s why it’s so special to me, but it was a good moment. All of us were just…quiet. Quiet and content and happy.” I nodded to myself before I looked around at the rest of them, who smiled back at me.

            “Vilkas?” Ma asked, her eyes genuinely curious. Vilkas hadn’t really talked much, compared to the rest of us, which is probably why Ma was so intrigued.

            Vil grimaced, a little less menacing than usual, but a grimace just the same. “It’s difficult to pick a moment to define the happiest I’ve ever been, simply because I’m so happy right now. It’s difficult to pick something that compares to…this.” He squeezed Karl just a little tighter before he continued.

            “I suppose the happiest moment of my life was…” He was silent a moment, and then he laughed. “The happiest moment of my life was just after we moved in to Breezehome. Kara and I were up a lot later than we usually were, trying to unpack things and set things up. Farkas was there too, not really helping, and he was singing this song that sort of sounded like Tale of Tongues, and Kara was singing along with him. Though Farkas is actually a really good singer, Kara just isn’t, but they sang the whole song together, a few times through.

            “I was actually getting annoyed with them, and I’d gone to bed. They’d stayed up, sitting downstairs and drinking hot chocolate and talking because…that’s just what they do. And I guess they thought I was asleep, but I could hear them talking through the floor. It was the first time I overheard Kara talking about me to someone else.”

            Karalissa furrowed her brow. “What did I say? I can’t even remember.”

            Vilkas smiled, his face blushing. “You told Farkas some long story about something I’d said, and he asked you how you didn’t get tired of being around me. And you said, ‘Villy and I are soulmates. I couldn’t get tired of him if I tried.’”

            Karalissa smiled. “Well, it’s true.”

            Vilkas laughed to himself before he kissed the side of Karl’s forehead. “I know it is. But hearing you say it to him just…” He shrugged.

            Ma smiled even wider. “And Karalissa?”

            Karl sighed. “I think the happiest moment of my life was…” She laughed loudly, bouncing her feet up and down. “Oh, the happiest moment of my life was few months ago. Aela’s’ birthday party.”

            “What?” Vilkas asked with a snort. “Why?”

            Karalissa laughed again. “We all got drunk and Farkas passed out. Aela and I painted his face with a big butterfly on it, and he didn’t notice for almost two days because you and Farkas never wash! No one told him! And then, when he finally figured it out, you and I just clung to each other and absolutely lost it. It was so funny.” She shook her head at me. “I wish you could have seen his face, Cass.”

            I rolled my eyes, unsurprised that something like that would be the happiest moment of Karl’s life. I turned back to Ma. “What about you, Ma? The happiest moment of your life?”

            She smiled. “This one. This is the happiest moment of my life.” Ma exhaled sharply in laughter. “I hate Solitude. I hate this city and the people and this house, but I love sitting here and listening to all of your stories. I love this.”

            “Why do you hate Solitude, Ma?” Karalissa asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

            “Every terrible thing that’s ever happened took place in this house.” she said simply, her smile unwavering even as she said such a terrible thing.

            Lydia sat up straight, then, looking up at me. I knew exactly what she was thinking, because it was the same thought that crossed my mind.

            “Come with us, Ma.” I said.

            She looked back at me, her eyes wide. “What?”

            “Come back to Windhelm with us. Live in the Palace of Kings.” Lydia said, smiling kindly.

            Ma shook her head. “I couldn’t. I don’t want to stand in the way of anything—”

            “You’re right, Ma. Every terrible thing that happened is still in this house. You can’t move on until you leave.” I said, taking my mother’s hand. “I love you, Ma, and I miss you every day. Come live with me and my family.”

            Lydia nodded. “We could use the help, honestly. Cass has to take care of Cat most of the time, since I’m busy with the city’s reformation. And we’ve been having a serious dragon problem, which takes the majority of Cass’s attention.”

            Ma’s eyes teared up. “Are you sure?”

            “Yes, Ma.” I said, laughing. “Come with us, and we’ll never come back to Solitude again.”

            Ma was quiet for a moment, staring at the table. Slowly, a smile crept across her face, and she looked up at me with a happy grin. She nodded, wiping her tears away with her other hand.

            “Can we leave now?” she asked, looking around at all of us. “Can we leave now, and never come back?”

            I released a wild laugh, looking around at everyone and nodding. “Yes, we can leave now.” I stood from the table, handing Cat to Lydia and then helping my mother out of her chair. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” I said, guiding Ma inside to pack her things.

            And just like that, we left Solitude. We didn’t stay for days, as we’d planned. We just left, and in our wake, we forgot about all of the bad. It was irrelevant, now, because the moment we walked through the gates and down to Gunjar at the stables was good.

            And the happiest moment of Ma’s life quickly became one of the happiest of mine.


	22. A Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arabella voices some of her personal concerns to the Night Mother. Later, Mareena causes a bit of a commotion in the eating area.
> 
> POV: Arabella

            I closed the door to the Night Mother’s crypt, locking the door behind me. I lowered my hood, though I didn’t bother to light the candles in the room. I used a small orb of light to guide me to the path leading to her coffin, then I sat on my knees before her, my head bowed as the light extinguished.

            “Mother, I feel the need to commune with you about something that burdens me.”

            _You do not have to speak, my child. My mind and yours are one. I already know what it is you feel, what you wish to say._

            I nodded in the pitch black of her crypt. “I don’t think I’m an assassin. I don’t think I’ve ever been an assassin.”

            _And yet, you have killed._

            “I have. But I believe it is because Astrid told me to. I wanted a family, and Astrid’s people were my people.” I shook my head. “But I only killed so she would allow me to stay.”

            _An interesting conclusion. You’ve done a lot of thinking about this._ She paused. _What was it that inspired this?_

            I sighed. “I…I couldn’t watch Cicero torture a man. He deserved every ounce of it, I feel that in my soul, but I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t help.” I felt tears spring to my eyes. “I know I’ve failed you, Mother. I know that I’m supposed to be an assassin, and I’m supposed to enjoy killing, but I don’t. I never have.” I shook my head again, feeling the tears roll down my cheeks. “I understand if I must leave the sanctuary. I understand if you must pick a new Listener.”

            _You have not failed me, my Listener._ She spoke with a laugh in her voice. _You found the Dark Brotherhood because you were meant to be my Listener, not my assassin. Are you not familiar with the Old Ways?_

            “I know some, but I’m really only familiar with what I learned in Falkreath.”

            _I assumed as much. You must understand that the ways you learned were not the Old Ways. You only know how to exist in the Falkreath Sanctuary, and this is part of the reason you feel so much pain, after all these years._

            I furrowed my brow. “That makes sense.”

            _My sweet Cicero approaches. Speak to him about the Old Ways. He will explain to you what could be your redemption._ I could feel the Night Mother’s embrace in my soul.

            As the door opened, I nodded. “Thank you, Mother.”

            I turned to look at the door, where Cicero stood in the frame. His face was riddled with questions, but he said nothing.

            Cicero and I hadn’t spoken much since we completed the first contract the High King gave us. He knew there was something wrong with me, something that I wasn’t telling him. I had no doubt he heard me talking to myself outside of the shack, and he knew that something was going on that he didn’t understand.

            And even still, he’d stayed quiet, waiting for me to want to talk to him about it. I stood from my spot, striding toward the door and out into the dimly lit hall.

            Cicero closed the door behind me, locking it again and checking the door before he turned to me. I leaned against the wall, looking up at Cicero and waiting for him to say something.

            He stood before me, his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

            “Hi.” I said, smiling crookedly at him.

            Cicero took the smile as a sign, and he pulled his hands from his pockets, placing one on either side of my face. He grazed the bridge of my nose with his thumb. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you and Mother.” He wiped the tears that were still on my face away.

            I leaned against his palm, shutting my eyes and enjoying the utter solitude we were sharing. “You didn’t interrupt. We were finished.”

            He ran his hand through my hair, leaving one hand against my face and placing the other against the back of my neck. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in days.”

            I opened my eyes, my brow furrowing when I saw the sadness in his eyes. I placed my hands on either side of his abdomen. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

            Cicero shook his head. “You have, though. You’ve been gone for a long time. You’re not here, and I don’t know where you’ve gone to. I don’t know how to bring you back.” He paused for a moment, blinking as he looked at me. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

            I gripped the fabric of his coat, trying to hold him closer to me, but he stood steady. “I’m okay, Cicero. I haven’t left you.”

            “You have. You’ve been gone a long time.” he whispered, pressing his cheek against my forehead. “I miss you. I really, really miss you.”

            I nodded, knowing he wasn’t wrong. “I want to come back. I have to.”

            Cicero lifted his head to look down at me, his eyes hopeful. “Just tell me what I have to do. I’ll do it.”

            I smiled at him. “Tell me about the Old Ways.”

            Cicero jerked his head back. “What does that have to do with—”

            “Mother says it will help me.” I explained. “She told me to ask you.”

            Cicero released me, leaning against the wall across from me. “Well, where do you want me to begin?”

            I shrugged. “I don’t really know anything about the Old Ways. I just know a little about the Black Hand. Festus told me once…but I can’t really remember.”

            “Huh.” Cicero said. “I didn’t really think about you not knowing. Well, the Dark Brotherhood was originally governed by the Five Tenets.”

            I cocked my head to the side. “The what?”

            “Five Tenets.” he repeated. “Never dishonor the Night Mother. Never betray the Dark Brotherhood. Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To violate any of these Tenets is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis.”

            “What about the different positions?”

            Cicero took a breath. “Well, in Cyrodiil, there were a lot of brothers and sisters, so there were a lot of jobs.”

            “What about you?” I asked. “What were your duties? How are they different now?”

            “I never gave up the Tenets.” Cicero said solemnly, utter seriousness radiating from him. “As Keeper, I was never supposed to lift my blade again. My life has been dedicated to the protection of the Night Mother and her Listener, but the Listener has needed me to train the initiates and carry out contracts. To disobey would be to violate the third Tenet.”

            I furrowed my brow. “But if I’d known that you weren’t supposed to—”

            “I know that.” he said. “Which is why I didn’t mention it.”

            “Nazir is our Speaker.”

            “The Listener would commune with Mother to receive contracts, and then relay them to the Speaker. The Speaker decided who received what contract.”

            “So we have that part right.” I said, nodding to myself. “And what about me?”

            Cicero shrugged. “Honestly, I met the last Listener just once. She stayed in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary for a few days to discuss reopening another sanctuary with Rasha.” Cicero cleared his throat after saying the name. “Alisanne Dupree lived on her own in Bravil, her own private residence, so she really only left to relay contracts to Speakers.”

            “She wasn’t an assassin?”

            Cicero shook his head. “Not after she became the Listener.”

            I furrowed my brow again, confused. “So, you’re not supposed to complete contracts, and I’m not supposed to complete contracts.”

            “Well, not exactly.” Cicero explained, folding his arms across his chest. “I suppose you could do whatever you wanted, as long as Mother approved. I like completing contracts, and the only reason I stopped was because there was no Listener.”

            “I don’t understand.”

            “I was appointed Keeper to safeguard the Night Mother’s body while she chose a Listener, to ensure that when she found someone to speak to, she _could_ speak.” Cicero shrugged. “I didn’t want to stop completing contracts, but I did.”

            “I don’t have to complete contracts.” I mumbled.

            Cicero raised an eyebrow. “No. You don’t.”

            I turned back to the door, unlocking it and walking inside. Cicero followed closely behind, curious as to what I was doing.

            I stood before Mother again, my head bowed but a smile on my face as I spoke. “Mother, I wish to no longer complete contracts.”

            _And so it shall be. Relay my words to your Speaker, and let my children send souls to Sithis. You have revived the Dark Brotherhood after years of confusion and misguided words. Now, you will rest._

            My eyes fluttered shut, and I rolled my head back in utter relief. “Thank you, Mother.”

            _Yes, my Listener. Explain yourself to sweet Cicero and to Nazir, so they can continue to serve both of us._

            “Of course, Mother.” I said, placing my hand against the coffin. “I will.”

            I turned back to Cicero, who stared in confusion again. As I did before, I joined him in the hallway, watching as he locked the door and made sure it was secure before he turned back to me.

            I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him tightly as he stood in confusion. After a moment, he hugged me back, holding me close to him. We stood like that for what felt like years, both of us silent, simply holding each other.

            Finally, I pulled away from him. I placed my hands on either side of his head, guiding his face down to mine to kiss him. It was a long and soft kiss, something we hadn’t shared in a very long time.

            When I released him, he smiled at me crookedly, still utterly confused but a bit less so. “Was that all? If I’d known that you didn’t want to complete contracts, I would have told you.” He ran his hand over my hair. “You have to tell me things, Arabella.”

            “I will tell you things.” I said, though I knew there was one thing I couldn’t tell him yet. And the one thing I couldn’t tell him smiled at me from the other end of the hall, watching intently as Cicero and I spoke to each other.

 

 

            “I think I need you to leave.” I said, not looking up from what I was doing.

            Veezara snorted. “It’s your mind. Do whatever you want.”

            I sighed in irritation, shaking my head as I tossed more of my belongings into the bag I held. “Clearly, it’s not my mind. If it were my mind, you wouldn’t be here.”

            “I thought you liked having me around.” Veezara said, poking the back of my neck as he used to when he was alive.

            I squirmed away. “I changed my mind. I don’t.”

            “Well, that’s not very nice of you to say.” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling back to my desk.

            I turned to him, exhaling sharply in exasperation. “It’s not…not that I don’t like having you around. But I don’t want to lie to Cicero anymore.”

            “So tell him.” Veezara suggested, sitting on the top of my desk. “Cicero was my friend, too.”

            “I can’t tell him.” I said simply, turning back to my shelves. “I don’t want him to think I’m mad.”

            “You are mad.” he reminded me. “Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

            “Plenty of times, and yet you refuse to leave.” I scooped a few more books into the bag.

            “What are you doing with the books?” I glanced at him for a moment, then returned to my activity. He laughed. “You can’t ignore me. I already know the answer.”

            “Then why did you ask?”

            “You want someone to talk to.” He drummed his talons against the surface of the desk.

            I shook my head. “They’re for Farkas.”

            “He can’t read.”

            “I’m well aware.” I grumbled. “He just told me that.”

            “So, why the books?”

            “Karalissa reads to him. I thought he might like these.” I looked at the books in the satchel, then decided they needed to be put back on the shelf.

            Veezara laughed. “That’s nice of her.”

            “I was thinking the same thing.” I winced as I said that, reminding myself that I wasn’t talking to anyone. He wasn’t real. “I think I need you to leave.”

            Veezara laughed behind me. “It’s your mind. Do whatever you want.”

            I shook my head, trying to decide which books to put back into the bag. “Clearly, it’s not my mind. If it were my mind, you wouldn’t be here.”

            “I thought you liked having me around.” he said, mumbling just loud enough so that I could hear.

            I began to place the books back into the bag. “I changed my mind. I don’t.”

            “Well, that’s not very nice of you to say.” he said, though it sounded vaguely familiar.

            I turned to look at him, my brow furrowed. “It’s not…not that I don’t like having you around. But I don’t want to lie to Cicero anymore.”

            “So tell him.” Veezara suggested, still perched on my desk. “Cicero was my friend, too.”

            “I can’t tell him.” I said as I turned back to the shelves. “I don’t want him to think I’m…mad.” I blinked, trying to remember why I was loading books into the bag in the first place.

            “You are mad.” Veezara said as I began to place the books back on the shelf. “Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

            I froze. Had we? I couldn’t recall the whether or not he was telling the truth, but why would he lie? I shook my head, pulling the books from my shelf and placing them in the bag. “I think I need you to leave.”

            “It’s your mind. Do whatever you want.”

             “Clearly, it’s not my mind. If it were my mind, you wouldn’t be here.”

            “I thought you liked having me around.”

            “I changed my mind. I don’t.”

            He sighed. “Well, that’s not very nice of you to say.”

            I shook my head as I placed the books back on the shelf. “I think I need you to leave.”

            My door opened then, and Cicero bounded in. He pulled the bag from my hand, tossing it onto the floor beside me and scooping me into a hug. He wasn’t wearing his jester’s motley, but instead shrouded armor, complete with a cowl over his head.

            “Hi.” I said, my voice slightly muffled.

            He placed me back on the ground, pressing his lips against my cheek. “Hi.”

            “You’re in a good mood.” I noted, putting my hands on my hips. “How was your contract?”

            “Ondolemar died well.” he said simply, bouncing from foot to foot. “Want to see something great?”

            I smirked. “Sure.”

            He raised one eyebrow. “Don’t be mad.”

            I jerked my head back in confusion. “About what?” Cicero removed his cowl to expose his hair, which was now a dark purple. I felt my jaw drop. “W-Wow. That’s…um. That’s very purple.”

            Cicero huffed, running his hands through his hair. “Well, it’s not permanent. It’s going to fade in about a week, and it will be back to normal. What do you think, though? How does it look?”

            I scratched the side of my head. “It’s…I mean, it’s different.”

            “You don’t like it?”

            “No, no. I didn’t say that.” I said. “How did you do that, exactly?”

            Cicero beamed. “When I was in Markarth, I met this nice young lady in the market place who offered to do it for me.” He shook his head around, his earrings jingling. “I think it looks good. Paid a fair amount of septims for it.”

            I watched as Cicero pulled his jester’s cap from his pocket and placed it on his head, his dark purple hair sticking out underneath. I couldn’t suppress a laugh. “It’s very Cicero. I’ll leave it at that.”

            “Oh, but you love Cicero, so that means you must like my hair.” he mumbled, kissing the side of my face again.

            We were interrupted as something crashed upstairs, followed shortly after by shouts and screams. We exchanged a look before we both bolted for the stairs, climbing quickly and dashing toward the eating area.

            The table was overturned, food flung about the room and against the walls. Thomas and Nikulas were in a fist fight in the middle of the floor, and Nazir was making an attempt to separate them. Mareena stood off to the side, watching intently with a scowl on her face.

            Cicero jumped into the mix, pulling Thomas out of the fight while Nazir dragged Nikulas away from them. Both of their faces were a bloody mess, Thomas’ barely recognizable.

            I folded my arms across my chest. “Can someone tell me what the hell is happening up here?”

            Dala-grog shook his head. “Best to let the young ones explain it.”

            I nodded, watching Mareena move to make sure Thomas was alright. He shook his head at me. “Ask Nikulas to tell you what he called Mareena.”

            I didn’t have to ask. “I called her a nosy, traitorous bitch.” Nikulas said matter-of-factly.

            I blinked, surprised by the words, and the fact that it was soft-spoken Nikulas saying them. “And why did you call her that?” Mareena shifted uncomfortably, and Thomas said nothing. I shrugged. “Well?”

            Nazir spoke. “Mareena said some…choice words about you.”

            “About me?” I asked, turning back to Mareena. “Is there something you’d like to discuss with me?”

            Mareena blinked, uncomfortable on the spot for just a moment before she raised an eyebrow, determined to cause a scene. “I just want to know who you’re talking to in your room.”

            My stomach flopped. “What are you talking about?”

            “You talk to someone in your room.” she repeated. “Who is it?”

            Cicero shook his head. “Probably me.”

            “No. It’s not you. She’s been in there all day saying the same thing over and over again.” Mareena said. “Are you talking to yourself?”

            Before I could speak, Cicero interjected, becoming angry. “It’s none of your gods damned business who she’s talking to.”

            Mareena laughed. “The entire sanctuary knows she’s crazy. Why is everyone trying to cover it up? It’s not like we didn’t hear her screaming every damned night. Now she talks to herself.”

            “You’d be wise to stop talking, recruit.” Nazir offered as Cicero’s eye began to twitch.

            I cleared my throat, staring solely at Mareena, but gaining the entire rooms attention. “Are you aware of what happened to the sanctuary we lived in before this one?”

            Cicero moved toward me. “You don’t have to talk about that.”

            He touched my arm, but I jerked away, unable to stop myself. “Are you aware?”

            Mareena looked around the room, meeting the gaze of everyone who awaited her answer. “It was…burned to the ground.”

            “How many survived?” I asked.

            She shrugged. “Just the four of you.”

            “That’s right.” I said, nodding to her. “So you know the sanctuary burned, and that the four of us survived. Do you know anything else?”

            Mareena shook her head. “No. No one talks about it.”

            “Would you like to know why?” I asked, laughing to myself. “We don’t talk about it because our family _died_. They’re _dead_. We don’t talk about it because the leader of our sanctuary betrayed us and cost them their lives. We had to listen to their screams and smell their burnt flesh and watched the life drain from their eyes. We had to hide in our own home after we watched our family die, and we had to wait until the flames extinguished themselves to come out of hiding.

            “And then, we had to pull the bodies of our family from the rubble. We had to pull Festus down from the tree he’d been pinned to and carry Arnbjorn out of the remnants of his forge. We had to _dig_ Gabriella out of a pile of broken wall and ceiling, and I had to put Astrid out of her own misery." I shut my eyes, shaking my head for a moment before I opened them again. "And I dragged Veezara’s limp and broken body to the main room so I could bury him with the rest.”

            “Arabella.” Cicero said beside me, his hand on my arm. It was the first time he’d said my name in front of the recruits. “You don’t have to explain yourself to them.”

            But I did. “They’re gone. They’re dead. We don’t talk about it because it was horrible. I have nightmares about holding Veezara’s body in the fire, and carrying Babette through the sanctuary, and fighting off guards with Nazir, and crawling into the Night Mother’s coffin and flying through a second story window. And I talk to myself because I’m mad. But we’re all mad now, because we saw the things that make people mad. And if that’s a problem for you, you’re more than welcome to _leave_.”

            Mareena nodded. “I’m sorry, Listener. I didn’t…I didn’t think about that.”

            “Thinking is good for you.” I said, stalking back toward the stairs. “You should try to do it more often.”

            I left them all there, standing quietly as they watched me leave. I descended the stairs to return to my room, where I shut the door and walked to my desk. I placed my hands on the edge, leaning against my palms and taking deep breaths to try and calm myself.

            I didn’t look up as Cicero entered, shutting the door behind him quietly and moving to stand behind me. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me against his chest.

            I shook my head, my breathing ragged as I choked back sobs forming in my chest. “I’m so sorry, Cicero.”

            “You’re not mad.” he said quietly.

            I turned to face him, pressing my face into his shoulder and failing to stop myself from crying. “I’m so sorry.” I cried again, allowing the tears to roll down my face. He held me tightly, running his hand over my hair and whispering that I wasn’t crazy again and again.

            But I was, because even though all I wanted was to be alone with Cicero, Veezara loomed in the corner, smiling at me as he always did. I shut my eyes, trying to block him out, but he spoke to me from across the room.

            “You are mad. We’ve had this conversation before.”


	23. A Map

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fjoli gets settled into the Palace of Kings. Later, Vilkas and Karalissa join Farkas, Arabella, Aela, and Codus in the Bannered Mare for some socializing.
> 
> POV: Karalissa

            “Let me carry something, Vilkas.” I said, trying to pick up at least one of my mother’s bags, but Vilkas just wasn’t having it. I bent over to grab another one, but he swiped it before I could. “Come on! Let me do _something_.”

            “No.” Vilkas said simply, a grimace on his face.

            I scowled at him. “Why not?”

            Vilkas looked at me, snorted, and then kept walking. “That’s not menacing at all. You do know that, right?”

            I rolled my eyes as I followed behind him. “Not menacing, sure. But I could be helpful!”

            “Kara, you’re five months pregnant. The only thing you’re responsible for carrying is my child.” Vilkas glanced over his shoulder at me, and eyebrow raised.

            “Hardy har har. I’m pregnant, Vilkas. Not useless.” I reminded him, taking one of the bags from his shoulder.

            As soon as I’d situated the bag on my own shoulder, Cass came up behind me and snatched it off. “Karl, don’t worry yourself with carrying things.” he said, taking another bag from Vilkas and walking away with him. Vilkas turned around, giving me a wink before he followed after my brother.

            It didn’t take us very long to get from the stables to the city, the snow that fell around us causing me to shiver. I sighed, a long and deep sigh as my mother placed her hand on my arm. I turned to her, watching her face as she stared up at the Palace of Kings. “It’s beautiful.” she mumbled, her eyes as wide as her smile.

            I smiled at her. “You should see the inside. It used to be drenched in Stormcloak Blue, but since Lydia started reforming the city, she’s made a lot of changes.”

            Lydia smiled, walking on the other side of Ma. “I’m waiting for the snow to melt to begin revamping the city itself, but until then, there’s plenty of interior design elements that can be fixed.” She shook her head. “Ulfric only liked gray and blue, which is why this city is so dull.”

            Ma laughed. “Gray and blue. That doesn’t surprise me.” We began to climb the steps to the Palace of Kings, and ahead of us, Vilkas held the door open. I patted the side of his abdomen as I passed him, and he followed in behind us once we were all inside.

            The throne room was draped in shades of light yellow and faint peach, the gray walls rendered unimportant compared to the vibrant banners that adorned them. There windows had been cleaned and now allowed plenty of natural light to illuminate the previously gloomy room. We followed Cassius through the throne room to the planning room, which still held a lot of Stormcloak memorabilia. He pushed open the door to the living quarters beyond, guiding us to their actual home.

            The living quarters were also decorated in yellow and peach, two colors that didn’t make much sense separately but looked lovely together. The long hall that guided us between every room was rather dim, but each room was flooded with natural light, much like the throne room.

            “Gods, Lydia.” I mumbled, staring around at the Palace of Kings. “This looks like an entirely different palace.”

            Lydia beamed, removing Cat’s little hat, which she had been wearing to combat the cold outside. “Thank you. I swear, Ulfric had no sense of decoration.”

            Cass rolled his eyes. “My life is pink and yellow, now.” he grumbled. “Pink and yellow and diapers and babies.”

            “ _Peach_ and yellow.” Lydia corrected.

            Vilkas snickered. “Maybe if you had accepted the throne, your home wouldn’t be pink.”

            “Peach.” Lydia reminded.

            Cassius laughed, the sound booming as it echoed off of the walls. “Shut up, Vil, or I’ll have the Jarl throw you in prison.”

            “Will my ragged robes be pink?” Vilkas asked, his eyebrow raised.

            Lydia grumbled. “Peach.” She bumped Cass’s shoulder with hers. “You like the colors and the diapers and the babies.”

            “Yeah, well.” Cass shrugged. “I have to at least pretend to be a man, Lyd.”

            We turned a corner and entered a guest room, which wasn’t decorated at all. It was a simple gray, dull and boring compared to the rest of the home. Lydia extended her arm to Ma, inviting her to join them inside. “You can decorate it however you’d like.” Lydia said, taking Ma’s hand. “Just let me know what sort of things you like, and I’ll have them sent over. It could be furnished by weeks end.”

            Ma beamed as Vilkas and Cass set her bags around the room. “It’s perfect.” she said quietly, squeezing Lydia’s hand. “I love it already.”

            Cass stretched his arms up, twisting from side to side to pop his back. “Our home is your home, Ma.” He stepped back out into the hall. “It’ll be nice to have you here. I’ve missed your cooking.”

            Ma smiled. “Well, I’d be happy to whip something up for you.”

            “Don’t worry about that, Ma.” Cass said. “You’re grieving. You don’t have to do anything. Unpack your things. Get comfortable.”

            “Stop worrying over me, Cassius.” Ma said, shaking her head. Her smile didn’t waiver. “I want to be a mother again. I haven’t been a mother in a long time.”

            Vilkas interjected. “Would you like some help cooking?”

            Ma smiled, nodding to him. “I would love that.”

 

 

            Vilkas helped me out of the wagon, taking my hand and helping me climb down. Once my feet were on the ground, Vilkas flipped a few spetims to the driver.

            “Thanks, Gunjar.” he called, raising a hand to dismiss him.

            I sighed, reaching for Vilkas as we began walking toward Whiterun from the stables. “I’m so glad to be home.” I said, cradling Vilkas’ arm and resting my head against his shoulder for just a moment.

            “Aye. I am, too.” Vilkas agreed.

            I shook my head. “I have so much to do. There’s a meeting in Dragonsreach on Middas that I need to create an agenda for. Codus and I have our monthly walkthrough of the Hold tomorrow, and I haven’t even notified anyone that we’re coming around. Ugh, and I meant to deal out jobs to Farkas and Aela, but I didn’t have a chance to—”

            “Ysmir’s beard, Kara.” Vilkas said with a laugh. “You’re going to come home with me. We’re going to sleep.”

            I shrugged. “I slept in the wagon. I’ll be fine.”

            Vilkas placed his arm over my shoulder as we crossed the bridge that led to the gates of Whiterun. “That doesn’t count. We’re getting into bed and not coming out of our room until tomorrow.” He gave me a gentle squeeze. “They won’t even know you’re back.”

            “I have a job to do, Villy.” I reminded him. “So do you.”

            He sighed, stopping me on the path to the gate. He placed his hands on either side of my face. “Kara, you’ve had a long week. You spent most of it rattling around in a wagon, and the rest of it was walking around. You need to rest.”

            “I can’t rest.” I argued, wrinkling my nose. “There’s too much to do.”

            “You can do it tomorrow.” Vilkas suggested. “And I’ll do some of it for you. You can’t keep pushing yourself.”

            “I’m not pushing myself at all.”

            Vilkas grunted in exasperation. “Karalissa, the past few months have been taxing on you. You think I don’t notice it, but I do.” He ran his thumb over the scar across my eye. “From finding out about Ulfric, to bringing all of the bad from your childhood to your brother’s attention; and then Viarmo died. And you’re pregnant on top of all of this. I know it’s important to you that others don’t think you’re weak, but I promise you that no one does.”

            I sighed. “You’re right.”

            “Needing to rest doesn’t make you weak.” Vilkas said, placing his hand against my back as he guided me toward the gate. “We’ll go home and climb into bed, and we won’t get up until tomorrow.”

            I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Okay.” I sighed as I leaned against my husband, so grateful that he could think when I didn’t want to. “You know, maybe we need to promote someone.” I suggested.

            “Think so?” Vilkas asked me, nodding to the guards as he pushed the gate open.

            “Maybe.” I said, shrugging. “It’s a lot of work for the four of us. You’re always training, Farkas and Aela are in charge of dealing out all of the jobs, and I’m neck-deep in paperwork all hours of the day. Maybe we need a fifth, to take some of the stress off.” I gave Vilkas a little nudge. “Besides, we can’t really be the Circle with just the four of us. That’s a square.”

            Vilkas snorted, shaking his head. “Well, who did you have in mind?”

            I didn’t answer as I noticed a note on the front door of Breezehome. I picked it off of the wooden door, which it was secured to with a small nail.

            _Meet us in the Bannered Mare._

            I jerked my head back. “Who wrote this?”

            “Aela?” Vilkas asked.

            I shook my head. “Aela’s handwriting is hardly legible. And Farkas can’t write at all.” I sighed, folding the note and turning toward the Bannered Mare.

            “What about Codus?” Vilkas asked unlocking the door to place our bags inside before joining me.

            “Codus wouldn’t ask me to meet him somewhere.” I explained. “He would just wait for me to come back to Jorrvaskr to discuss something with him.”

            Vilkas shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, then I don’t know.” We climbed the steps to the Bannered Mare, and I tugged the door open. Vilkas and I stood in the doorway a moment, trying to filter through the faces for someone we would recognize.

            “Hey!” I heard Farkas’ voice shout. He sat at the table in the back corner of the room with Arabella, who had her legs folded in the chair and a happy smile on her face.

            I felt my own face light up. “Well, well, well. Look who it is!” I called as I walked toward them. Farkas had pulled up two more chairs to the small table, and he’d already ordered a drink for Vilkas and a glass of water for me.

            Vilkas made himself comfortable in the seat next to Arabella. “It’s good to see you.” he said to her with a smile. “What brings you all the way to Whiterun?”

            Arabella smiled back, which was so unusual to see. “I’m travelling to Riften to visit my father.” she explained. “I thought it would be nice to stop and visit my brothers, as well.”

            Vilkas nodded. “Well, we’re happy to see you.”

            I beamed at Arabella. “Is Cicero around here somewhere?”

            “No.” Arabella said, shaking her head. “He had some errands to attend to in Winterhold. He’s meeting me in Riften tomorrow evening.”

            “Winterhold, huh?” I asked, and eyebrow raised. “Dealing with some business at the college?”

            Arabella smirked. “Something like that.”

            Farkas put his hand on my shoulder as I took a sip of my water. “How is everything?” His tone of voice was concerned, something I rarely heard from him.

            I nodded to him, trying to assure him that he didn’t have to be so worried. “Everything is fine, Farkas.”

            He squeezed my shoulder. “But are you okay?” he asked, his gray eyes reflecting his genuine need to know. “I was worried for you.”

            I felt my brow furrow. “Everything was okay, Farkas. We went to Solitude to visit my mother, and we spent the day there with her. Then, we brought her back to Windhelm. She’s going to live with Cass and Lydia.”

            Farkas shook his head. “Well, that’s good, but that’s not what I asked.” He kept his hand on my shoulder. “Your father died. You didn’t react the way I thought you would.”

            I looked around the table. Vilkas smiled at me in encouragement, but shot his brother a look I didn’t quite understand. Arabella looked as if she may be sick, though, which was a curious expression to me. I smiled at Farkas, as politely as I could manage. “Viarmo wasn’t my father, Farkas.”

            He nodded. “Well, I know that. But he raised you, which is just as important.”

            I cleared my throat, shifting uncomfortably. I hadn’t realized I’d never told Farkas about any of the things that happened with Viarmo, and I knew he was just concerned for me. “Viarmo was just my mother’s husband. He wasn’t anything else.”

            Farkas furrowed his brow, utterly confused. “You didn’t like him?”

            I felt Vilkas nudge him with his foot under the table. “Farkas, we just got back.”

            “Oh.” Farkas said, his face crumpling. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Lissa.”

            I smiled at him, shaking my head. “You haven’t upset me, Farkas. I forgot that you don’t know anything about all of this.”

            He shook his head too. “I don’t. All I know is you got a letter that said he died, and then you cried and left.”

            Vilkas cleared his throat to gain his brother’s attention, placing his hand between my shoulder blades. “Maybe we’ll revisit this after Kara’s had some rest.”

            “It’s fine, Villy.” I said, smiling up at my husband, who seemed just as concerned as his brother. I turned back to Farkas. “Viarmo wasn’t a good man. I just don’t like to talk about him, that’s all.” I patted Farkas’ shoulder. “We only went to make sure my mother was alright. It wasn’t for him.”

            Farkas understood then, and he nodded before he leaned forward to hug me. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly and pressing his cheek against mine. “Well, I’m sorry you had to think about him so much.”

            I smiled, relaxing as I hugged him back. “It’s okay.” I assured him. It was moments like these when I was the most grateful to have Farkas as a friend. He was so compassionate. Everyone else’s burdens became his own, and he would do anything to make sure the people he loved were one hundred percent happy.

            He released me and sat back in his chair again. Farkas shook his head as he took a long swig of his mead. “Everyone I love had a bad father.” he said to no one in particular. “If I’m ever a father, I’ll be a really good one. And I’ll be a good uncle, and Vilkas will be a great father.”

            I nodded, placing my hand on Vilkas’ forearm. “I know he will.” I said, smiling at my husband. He smiled too, pleased to hear me say it for the thousandth time.

            “You’ll be a good father, Farkas.” Vilkas said, nodding to his brother.

            Farkas laughed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be a father. Aela doesn’t like babies.”

            “She may not like babies, but I’ll bet she’d love her own children.” I said. I turned to Arabella. “What about you and Cicero? Plans for children?”

            Arabella choked on mead, coughing it back up after she accidentally inhaled it. She set the mug down, shaking her head quickly. “Oh, no. No.” she said with a laugh. “No children for us.”

            “Why not?” Farkas asked.

            Arabella raised her eyebrows. “Have you met us?”

            “I have.” he reminded his sister with a nod.

            She took a deep breath. “Well, neither of us are…parent material.”

            “Sure you are!” I said excitedly. “You’d be a great mother!”

            Arabella scratched her head. “Well…I mean, maybe I would. But Cicero and I…just no. No children.”

            “Where is Aela?” Vilkas asked, looking around the tavern.

            “Oh, she’s at home.” Farkas said, scratching his beard. “She’s coming down in a few minutes. I figured she’d beat you two here, actually.”

            “I haven’t actually met her yet.” Arabella said, a smile still on her face. “I’m excited.”

            I couldn’t stop myself from smirking. “You know, I’ve never actually seen you smile this much.” I commented. “What has you so giddy?”

            Arabella shrugged. “I don’t know. Things have just been…good.”

            Vilkas smiled at her. “Well, good.”

            Aela entered the Bannered Mare, then. She only took a moment to find us, and she marched across the room, dragging Codus with her.

            She pulled up two bar stools, snatched from beneath the counter Hulda was cleaning, and she sat in one after forcing Codus to sit in the other.

            “Hello, all.” Aela said, patting Farkas on the head. She turned to Arabella a moment after. “You’re the secret sister.”

            Arabella nodded, extending her hand. “Yes, and you’re the secret lover, I assume?”

            Aela snickered, shaking Arabella’s hand. “That’s an interesting accent.” She sighed in exasperation, putting her hand on top of Codus’ head. “Everyone has an interesting accent except me.”

            I raised one eyebrow. “Everyone?”

            “Codus has a weird accent. Arabella is fancy. We all know how Vilkas sounds, and Farkas has a little bit of the same accent that you only hear when he says certain things.” She pointed at me. “Even you sound a little different than me.”

            Farkas put his hand on her leg. “Well, I like your voice.”

            Aela sighed. “Well, at least someone does.” Aela shook her head, then looked up at me. “How was your trip?”

            Farkas shook his head. “She doesn’t want to talk about it.”

            “Oh. Okay.” Aela said, shrugging and turning to Vilkas. “Villy, how was Lissa’s trip?”

            “Don’t call me that.” Vilkas grumbled. “The trip was fine.”

            “Good.” Aela said. “Now that all of the pleasantries are out of the way, I have some real shit to discuss.” She glanced at Arabella. “Cover your ears so you don’t hear all of our secrets, little sister.” Arabella shrugged and placed her hands over her ears as Aela leaned forward. “Codus located another Totem of Hircine.”

            My eyes widened. “How did you manage to do that?” I asked, utterly confused. Aela had been searching for those Totems for years, at that point, without even a whisper of where another Totem could be. She hadn’t found one since Codus was initiated.

            Codus smirked. “Well, it wasn’t that difficult, actually. There’s a simple path to follow, if you look at the map of Skyrim. A pattern of sorts. It tells you exactly where they all are.”

            Vilkas’ furrowed his brow. “How do you know that?”

            “I was in charge of navigatin’ when I was with my brother.” Codus explained, his smile fading. “In addition, I was responsible for constructin’ a series of underground tunnels that connected different vampire covens, when I was with Alva. I know where precious things are hidden, because I’m the one who hid them.”

            Aela nodded. “Terribly sad, but also terribly convenient for me.”

            Arabella uncovered her ears. “If you’re talking about werewolves, it’s not really a secret.” she said with a shrug. “Just letting you know.”

            All of our jaws dropped. “How the hell did we keep this a secret for almost ten years, and now everyone knows?” Vilkas asked, his eyes both confused and angry.

            “How did you figure it out?” I asked Arabella.

            “Oh.” she said, shrugging again. “Cicero told me.”

            “Well how did Cicero figure it out?” Aela asked. “Also, who is Cicero?”

            “Cicero is her lover.” I said with a smile.

            Farkas scowled. “Oh, gross.”

            I laughed rather loudly. “Why is that gross?”

            Farkas shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know, she’s my little sister. I don’t want to know about her…lover.” He shivered as he said the last word.

            Aela huffed. “Well, how did your lover know we were werewolves?”

            Arabella sighed. “He had a…bad experience with a werewolf a few years ago. Made him really angry and was nearly mauled to death.” She rolled her eyes. “He just knows the smell.”

            “Well, we’re not werewolves anymore.” Farkas said, smiling at his sister. “We cured ourselves.”

            “Glad to hear it.” Arabella said with an awkward smile.

            “Anyway,” Aela said, returning to her story. “We’re going to get the Totems.”

            Codus jerked his head back. “We?” he repeated. “I don’t get an option, lass?”

            Aela shook her head. “Sure don’t. I may be good at tracking, but the map you showed me makes absolutely no sense. You’ll just have to guide me.”

            Vilkas snickered. “How do you even know if the map is correct if you can’t read it?”

            “This is Codus.” Aela said, gesturing toward the Imperial beside her. “Have you met him?”

            Vilkas narrowed his eyes, daring her to continue.

            “He’s an expert.” Aela said. “I’d trust him with my life, and more importantly, my Totems.”

            Codus sighed. “Is this an order, or am I left a choice in the matter?” Aela stared at him with a sly smile, silently explaining that he definitely didn’t have a choice. “Do we have the Harbinger’s approval?”

            Vilkas grunted. “The Harbinger is on leave. She’s not working right now.”

            “Who’s in charge after the Harbinger?” Farkas asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

            “Me.” Vilkas said. “The Master at Arms is also on leave, because his wife is on leave.”

            “Well, who’s in charge after the Master at Arms?” Codus asked, looking around at us. “Is it Farkas or Aela?”

            “When the Harbinger is unavailable, and the Master at Arms is following her around like a puppy, Farkas and I are collectively in charge.”

            “I’m sitting right here.” I grumbled, rolling my eyes.

            Codus extended his hand to Arabella. “It’s nice to meet you, by the way.”

            “Pleasure.” Arabella said, a small smile on her face as she shook his hand.

            Vilkas folded his arms across his chest. “Who said you two were in charge when we’re not around?”

            “Who said you were in charge at all, Vilkas?” Aela argued, still smiling. “I’ve never heard once that you were in charge after Lissa.”

            “I’m the Master at Arms.” Vilkas muttered, shaking his head.

            “And you can’t even use one of your arms.” Aela said, kicking Vilkas under the table. “You’ve never been in charge of anything but training, and everybody does that.”

            “Really?” Vilkas asked, his voice angry but his tone playful. “Because last time I checked, I have a title. A formal title. ‘The Huntress’ doesn’t count as a title.”

            “Um. Yes it does.” Aela said, her smile fading.

            Farkas grumbled, his eyes sad. “I want a title. Lissa, can I have a title?”

            “Who even made you Master at Arms? Is that a real title?” Aela asked Vilkas, her face twisted in frustration.

            “Kodlak did.” he said, his tone and voice angry now. He didn’t like to be challenged, especially not by Aela. “Are you arguing?”

            “I was a member of the Circle before you were, Vilkas. That counts for something.”

            “It counts for something, sure. Something unimportant.”

            Aela set her jaw. “Are you implying that my position in the Circle is unimportant?”

            “Are you implying that _mine_ is?” Vilkas countered.

            I put my hand on his shoulder. “I think that’s enough, both of you.”

            Farkas sighed. “Aela would probably be in charge. I can’t do paperwork.”

            “Personally, I think your title is unimportant.” Aela said, shrugging at Vilkas. “It doesn’t mean anything except that you’re in charge of the weapons. The fact that Lissa lets you sign things is because she thinks it’s fun.”

            “And what’s a warrior without a weapon?” Vilkas asked, growing angrier and angrier. “I’ve been a Companion for a long time, Aela. Most of my life, actually.”

            Aela snorted. “And if what Farkas says is true, you cried the entire first week you spent in Jorrvaskr.”

            “I was seven years old!” Vilkas said, slamming his fist on the top of the table. “Our mother was dead and our father didn’t want us!”

            “That was mean, Aela.” Farkas said, putting his hand on her back.

            “It doesn’t matter that you’ve been here longer!” Aela shouted at Vilkas, ignoring Farkas entirely. “Lissa’s only been here for a few years, and she’s the gods damned Harbinger.”

            “I’m still sitting right here.” I reminded them.

            “She’s the Harbinger because she’s more qualified than us.” Vilkas said. “She takes the job more seriously than we do.”

            “I take my job very seriously.” Aela said, her voice low.

            Vilkas laughed. “Drinking yourself silly and causing trouble with Farkas is taking your job seriously?”

            “Oh.” Aela said, cocking her head to the side. “Would you like me to remind everyone that you’re only in charge of anything because you married the Harbinger?”

            Codus choked on his drink, and Arabella looked at me, utterly confused. Farkas sighed, shaking his head.

            Vilkas stared at her wordlessly for a moment. “Are you trying to say that I only married her because she’s the Harbinger? Because I don’t care how small you are, I’ll kick the shit out of you.”

            Aela snickered. “Oh, you’ll _have_ to kick the shit out of me, because one of your arms is useless.”

            “Damnit! That’s enough!” I shouted, finally gaining the group’s attention. “You’ve taken this too far, both of you.”

            Vilkas watched my face for a moment, then he nodded. “You’re right.” He turned back to Aela. “I didn’t mean any of that.”

            “I didn’t, either.” Aela agreed, smiling softly at Vilkas. “I’m sorry.”

            “I am, too.”

            I dropped my head to the table. “Not a minute of gods damn peace. Not a minute.”

            Vilkas rubbed my back, sighing quietly. “I’m sorry, pup. You’ve had a long week.”

            “I’m sorry too, pup.” Aela said, and I didn’t have to look up to see the smile on her face. “Sorry Vilkas is so annoying.”

            “Easy, huntress.” Vilkas replied, addressing Aela by her title.

            The table returned to casual conversation after that. About the Totems, about Arabella, about random things that had happened while we were away. I left my head on the table for a long time, very near falling asleep with Vilkas’ hand on my back and the voices of my friends above me.

            Farkas placed his face on the table beside me, looking at me curiously. “Hi.” he said, a kind smile on his face.

            “Hi.” I said, our voices going unheard over the conversation above us.

            He sighed, raising his eyebrows at me. “You seem tired.”

            “I am tired.” I told him, shutting my eyes. “It’s been a very long—”

            “Life.” Farkas interrupted. “It’s been a very long life. For all of us.” He nodded to me when I opened my eyes again. “I’m tired too.”

            I smiled a little at him. “I’m sorry you’re tired.”

            Farkas nodded again, his brow furrowing in sadness. “I’m sorry I didn’t know about your stepfather. I wish I could have helped you.”

            I shook my head. “Don’t be sorry, Farkas. I should have told you.”

            “I should have asked.” he said, pursing his lips. “You were hurting and I didn’t even ask.”

            “Don’t do that, Farkas.” I said, putting my hand against the side of his face. “You’re too kind for your own good.”

            “What can I do now?” he asked, his gray eyes riddled with worry. “You’re my very best friend, Lissa. I don’t want you to hurt anymore.”

            “I don’t hurt.” I assured him with a smile. “It’s over now, and I’m not hurting. My mother is with Cassius and his family, and I can visit her whenever I want now.”

            “You couldn’t before?”

            I shook my head, placing my hand in my lap again. “No. Not with Viarmo waiting.”

            Farkas nodded. He looked away for a moment, down at the table beneath his cheek, then up at me again. “I don’t really know anything about families. I don’t remember much of my parents, or the people we lived with when we were little. I didn’t even know you had family, other than Cassius.”

            “You’re my family.” I told him. “The Companions are my family, just as much as Cass and Lydia and Cat and Ma. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my mother, or Viarmo. I only just recently told Vilkas about him.”

            “Well, I won’t make you talk about him.” Farkas said. “You’re probably tired of talking about it, but if you want to, I’m right here.”

            I smiled, nodding to him. “I know you are.”

            “I always will be.” he reminded me, taking my hand.

            I shut my eyes, my smile unwavering. “I will be, too.”


	24. An Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassius and Lydia have to fight another dragon, but things go very differently this time.
> 
> POV: Cassius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh thank you all for pushing this story to almost three hundred hits!!!!!!
> 
> THREE HUNDRED, GUYS! I know that's not as much some of the other stories in the Skyrim category, but it's a lot for me. Thank you all so, so much for reading and communicating with me through the comments. I love writing and interacting with you guys, and I don't think I would have kept writing after Blood's Honor if I hadn't received so much positive feedback from you all. 
> 
> Ah, and here we are again. We're getting dangerously close to the end, unfortunately. This is one of the more upsetting chapters, in my humble opinion, though the most upsetting is coming a little later.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy.

            I shoveled another spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth as I walked down the hall toward my bedroom, my armor clanking as I moved. The iron chest plate was firm against my chest, and my footsteps were heavy in my matching boots. It felt nice to be back in my armor after so long, though it was a little tight. With all the time I’d spent avoiding doing anything warrior-related, I’d gained a few pounds in my midsection, which I wasn’t exactly complaining about. It didn’t matter much to me, and I didn’t plan on going back into battle any time soon.

            My Battle-Maiden caught my attention before I reached my bedroom, sitting in the study with the door open. I stopped walking and pivoted on my heel, walking quietly into the room. Lyd looked up when I entered, my armor giving me away, but she smirked at me before looking back down at her papers.

            I pulled up a chair to sit beside her, leaning back and taking another bite of my oatmeal. I didn’t say anything; I just sat beside her and watched her write. Lydia had very nice handwriting, which was something I had always found fascinating, since the words I wrote were closer to scribble than legible sentences. I loved to watch her write, and I did it often. She wrote so quickly, but the letters were always perfect. Every letter identical in size and style, every space between the words exactly the same distance.

            Lyd looked over at me after a few minutes. “Something you needed?”

            I shook my head, smirking as I took another bite of my oatmeal. “Nothing at all.”

            “Why are you all dressed up?” she asked, pushing her papers away from her and turning toward me. She was obviously bored with whatever she was working on, because if she wasn’t, she would have sent me away by now.

            I shrugged, a smile stretching across my face as I set my bowl on the desk. “Because, I’m going adventuring today.” I told her. I scooted forward in my chair. “And you’re coming with me.”

            “Am I?” Lyd asked, her eyes shimmering with deep blue playfulness.

            “You are.”

            “And why is that?”

            I sighed. “Because I never go adventuring without you.”

            “Yeah, because you’d get yourself killed.” She laughed, shaking her head as I moved my chair right up against hers, putting myself as close to her as I could get.

            “You’re right.” I said, pushing some of her hair behind her ear so I could press my lips against her jaw. “You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count.”

            “And I could count all of the times you were actually helpful on one hand.” Lydia mumbled, smiling as I kissed my way up to her ear.

            I laughed at that, wanting to defend my ego, but knowing she was absolutely right. “I know I’m a shitty warrior, Lyd. You don’t have to remind me.”

            “Not shitty.” she assured me. “Just not as good as me.”

            “That’s very humble of you.” I said, shaking my head before I pressed my mouth against her cheek, my beard scratching her soft flesh as I spoke. “Remember when we went all the way down to the Ratway to get Esbern?”

            Lydia laughed, the sound soft and completely humored. “Oh, I remember. You opened the wrong cell, and that crazy woman bit you.”

            “And then Esbern still told me to go away!” I said, shaking my head before I rested my forehead against Lydia’s shoulder. “I let a looney lady bite me, and he still wouldn’t let us in.” I looked up at her, rolling my eyes. “If you hadn’t remembered that thing that Delphine said—”

            “Exactly.” Lydia said, placing her hands on either side of my face as I lifted my head from her shoulder. She ran her hand through my long hair, shaking her head with a pretty smile on her face. “You are absolutely useless.”

            I kissed her then, my hand finding its place at her side. Every time I thought I couldn’t be more in love with her, she would say something like that. So snarky and sarcastic, but so endearing at the same time. But it was true: I was absolutely useless without her. I needed her; I always had.

            I felt it then, the sharp pain of the souls stirring in my chest, awakened from restless slumber and tugging me toward the battle. I jerked away from Lydia, putting my fist over my heart, unable to contain a grunt as another wave of pain struck my chest.

            Lydia’s eyes widened. “Again?”

            I nodded, rubbing my face with my hands. “Yep.”

            Lydia stood then, walking toward the doorway. She looked back at me, her jaw set in both excitement and irritation. “Well, let’s go.”

            I was confused for a moment, but when she extended her hand to me, I smiled. My wife stood in the frame in her steel armor, looking just as beautiful as she did the day I met her. I stood, walking toward her to close the distance between us and take her hand.

            Out in the hall, Ma stood with Cat on her hip. “What’s all the commotion outside?”

            “There’s a dragon.” I explained in a gruff voice, excited to have an adventure with Lydia, just like the good old days, but angry that there was another dragon flying around the city. “We’re going to take care of it.”

            Ma nodded, used to the fact that I had to go battle a damned dragon fairly regularly at this point. There had been three since she’d moved in with us, one nearly every week. “Be safe, both of you.”

            Lydia placed her hand against our daughter’s face for just a moment, but then we both left the palace, bounding down the steps and out into the frenzied city. The souls I’d absorbed were screaming within me, something I hadn’t experienced yet. Usually, they just stirred, an endless churning in my chest that didn’t stop until another soul joined them. This time, though, they were shrieking, but whether it was in pain or in protest, I hadn’t any idea.

We weren’t a few feet from the palace steps when a woman stopped Lydia. “My Jarl, you have to get to the stables!” she yelled, stopping for only a moment before she dragged her children inside.

The city was in panic, as it usually was, but there was something different about this time. The guards weren’t running to the gates, there was no roar echoing through the sky. There was just silence.

            Lydia and I exchanged a glance, then jogged to the gates of Windhelm. There was still a thin layer of snow on the ground, but the warm sun was beginning to melt it, leaving puddles for us to splash in before we arrived at the large gate, which was hanging open and guardless.

            Outside of the city, we could see that the stables were in flames, a thick sheet of fire that threatened to collapse the wooden beams supporting the roof. Still, there was no dragon in sight. As we dashed toward the stables, where several stable-hands were working to extinguish the flames, I noticed that there were no guards to be seen, either. No people. No dragon.

            “What the hell is going on?” I asked no one in particular.

            Lydia answered, though, but with another question. “Where’s the dragon, Cass?”

            “No clue.” I said.

            Then, slowly but surely, the cries of men rose up, travelling with the wind that whipped around us. It was coming from beyond the snowy hills, just barely out of sight, but Lydia and I ran toward it still.

            When the dragon was visible, resting on the ground and surrounded by guards, I slowed to a walk, my hands on my hips. I shook my head at Lydia, who had slowed to keep pace with me.

            “I forgot my damned helmet.” I said, gritting my teeth together.

            Lydia furrowed her brow. “Well, don’t get eaten.”

            I nodded. “You too.” We shared a quick kiss, brief but important, and then, we separated. Lydia ran ahead to direct her guards, give them orders to follow instead of getting smacked around by the dragon, which was usually their battle strategy. I walked toward the fight, shaking my head at the dragon, who still hadn’t lifted off of the ground.

            “Fin Dovah fen ni bo.” I called to the beast, stating that it did not fly and gaining its attention.

            “Zu’u ni mey.” it said to me, its voice echoing through the hills. “Dovahkiin fen drun zu’u tum.”

            The dragon wasn’t wrong. I would bring him back down as soon as he flew away, but that didn’t mean I liked a dragon on the ground that wasn’t entirely incapacitated.

            Instead of continuing the conversation, I moved across the grass toward it, determined to join the guards in their effort to bring this cocky dragon down. It turned its attention back to the guards, snapping one up in its jaws and shaking it in the air. I heard Lydia’s voice in the mix, ordering the guards to charge, then I watched as she joined them in their dash toward the scaled beast as I drew a deep breath.

            **WULD NA KEST** flew from my lips, the shout fading into the air as I propelled forward, flying into the line of guards and joining them at a run. The dragon was confused for just a moment, trying to find me in the mix, but its gaze focused on me after a moment. I fell into the group of guards, hoping to confuse it further.

            Lydia immediately went to work on the wings, ensuring that it wouldn’t be able to fly away from us by cutting long slits into the tender flesh of the left wing with her steel sword. The dragon cried out, whipping its head toward her to snatch her up in its jaws, but she rolled away before it could reach her, landing in a crouch a few feet from the dragon and hopping back onto her feet.

            **MID VUR SHAAN** came from within me, a dark light striking all of the guards and enabling them to attack faster. They each struck the dragon, driving their blades within its flesh and dodging all attacks, even as the dragon blew a stream of ice at them.

            I saw my opening, as the dragon cried something unintelligible to me into the sky, and I ran forward to drive my blade up through its neck and into its skull. The beast sputtered, falling limp and dropping into the grass. It wasn’t dead, though close, and it blinked at me.

            “Zu’u zahrahmiik laas fah dii In.” it whispered, just before it exhaled in dying breath.

            I felt my brow furrow, and Lydia approached me slowly. She placed her hand on my shoulder. “What did it say, Cass?”

            “It said it sacrificed itself.” I said, standing firm as the dragon disintirgrated, its flesh flying away from it and its gentle soul propelling into me. It wasn’t forceful—it simply became part of my flesh and joined the other souls in my torso. I shut my eyes for a moment, waiting for it to settle within me before turning back to Lydia. “It said it sacrificed itself for its master.”

            “What?” Lydia asked, as confused as I was for a moment.

            Then, I realized that there was no snow where we stood. The stables had been on fire. The dragon had stayed on the ground and accepted death, even before Lydia took its ability to fly away.

            I shook my head, the souls in my chest still unsettled and churning confirming what I thought. “Son of a bitch, there’s another dragon.” I said, moving to pull my blade from the skeleton before us.

            “Another?” Lydia called to me, and I nodded just before she turned to give her men more orders. I grabbed the hilt of my blade, attempting to yank it from the skeleton, but finding it was lodged in the bone, and it wasn’t going anywhere.

            At that moment, a loud cry rang through the sky above us a second before the dragon became visible. It circled above us, blowing thick, hot fire at us.

            I cursed to myself, a rather profane terminology because I was angry I didn’t have my helmet. Frost typically didn’t bother me, but I preferred to not get burned alive, if I could help it.

            The beast landed on the skeleton of the dragon that had given up its life for this one, sending bones flying out at us. It was silent for a moment, staring at me with an eager smile on its face. I stood steady, weaponless with the exception of my voice, before I drew a breath.

            **FUS RO DAH**.

            The dragon sputtered as the impact of the shout struck its snout, but it was ultimately unaffected. It spewed flames in my direction, but not before I rolled away from the stream. Two guards went up in flames behind me, and they ran about and rolled in the grass to try and extinguish themselves.

            I searched the ground for a weapon, but there were none. I pulled myself to my feet, running to the dragon’s side and gripping its wing to throw myself onto its back. I looked out at the crowd just in time to see Lydia toss a sword my way, and I caught it by the hilt.

            **MUL QAH DIIV** I shouted, a shout I rarely used because it took so much out of me. I staggered slightly, but I regained my balance as the shout took effect, providing me with the strength I needed to deliver several harsh blows to the dragon’s back with a colossal amount of force.

            I ran up the spine toward the head, my hands out on either side of my body to keep my balance. Just before I could drive my blade into its skull, the dragon whipped its neck to toss me away from it.

            I felt myself falling, the sword slipping from my hand and propelling to the ground below me handle first, keeping the blade exposed so when I clattered to the ground, it drove itself through my shoulder. I cried out, screaming as I yanked it away from my flesh and holding it up to defend myself.

            It was a useless effort, though, as the dragon snapped its jaws and broke the sword, a mere toothpick compare to the strength of its teeth. I watched in utter horror as it spit my weapon to the side and turned back to me, a sick smile on its face as it grabbed me with its mouth, lifting me up and shaking me back and forth, its teeth sinking into the flesh of my abdomen before it tossed me through the air.

            I was flying. I could hear Lydia screaming for me, but all I saw was the sky and the trees around me somersaulting in rhythm with the souls in my chest. The wind screeched in my ears, and though I felt weightless for a moment, the gravitational pull of the world tugged me back to the dirt, and I landed with a harsh crunch in the grass several hundred feet from the dragon.

            I turned my head, watching as the dragon crawled toward me, its laugh accompanied by the giggles of the souls of my past enemies. The dragon snapped at my face, and though I used all of the strength I had left to force my limp, broken body away from the beast, it still snagged a part of my face. I screamed as I felt the dragon’s sharp tooth make contact with my left eye and drag across my face, tearing my flesh open and immediately impairing my sight. The world around me became crimson, and I struggled to move my hand to cover my face, to shield myself from another attack, but my body didn’t move, too broken to be of any use.

            And it was then, as the red dragon stood above me and watched me bleed, I grew silent. I was going to die, in the jaws of a dragon, and I couldn’t accept it. I wouldn’t. With one final ounce of strength, I drew a breath, just enough to whisper a single word.

            **FEIM**

            I faded, becoming ethereal as the dragon sought to scoop me into its mouth. It couldn’t, though, as my body became ungraspable and unbeatable. I laid there, watching the dragon try to attack me and listening to the screams of my wife as I heard her approach.

            The dragon turned its attention to the guards approaching, and I found myself laughing. Every part of me hurt, every inch of bone to every strand of hair ached with inconceivable pain. I felt tears rolling from the eye I could see from, and I tried to move to wipe them away before Lydia could see, but I was still limp, my body unmovable in the cold, wet grass.

            I watched as Lydia climbed onto the back of the dragon and drove her sword through its skull. I watched as the dragon roared in death, Lydia hanging onto it by the horns on its head and riding the dead dragon until it rested on the ground. I watched as she hit the ground, unmoving for a moment before she scrambled on her hands and knees toward me, her hands touching my bloody face as my final shout wore off, making my flesh tangible again.

            “Cass.” she mumbled, running her hands over my broken limbs and the deep teeth marks in my chest, my chest plate adorning holes now, where the dragon’s bite had severed the metal, that I could feel flowing profuse amounts of blood. “Cassius.” she said again, staring down at me with tears in her beautiful, blue eyes.

            “I forgot my fucking helmet, Lyd.” I said grinning at her with blood on my teeth and face and eyes. She blinked at me, struck silent for a moment before she laughed. It was an angry laugh, one filled with concern and fear, but she still laughed, tears rolling down her face. I wish I could have reached for her, could have touched her face as the dragon behind her deteriorated, its flesh flaking away and drifting away with the wind.

            “I love you, Lydia.” I whispered to her, because I felt myself fading into unconsciousness and I wanted her to know. She was sobbing, screaming for me to stay, but I couldn’t stop myself from leaving.

            The yellow light finally hit me, the soul of the dragon that defeated me making itself at home in my chest, combining with the others. It hit me with the most force I’d ever known, the pain even stronger than the aching my entire body felt, and I heard myself grunt as I sucked the dragon’s life into my dying flesh.

            And then, as the absorption finished, I stared past Lydia into the sky and thought ‘how damned funny would it be if another dragon swooped in right now’. I laughed to myself, listening to my wife scream for help and cry my name to gain my attention, but I just stared up at the sky, cursing the fates because it was dragon blood that I was born into the world with, and it was dragon blood that made me leave.

            I felt the darkness surrounding me, beckoning me to sleep, and so I obeyed.

            The last sound I heard was Lydia’s pained voice, then I shut my eyes.

            And it was dark. Warm. Painless.

            Gone.

 

 

            _“Cassius Felstead.” my mother said, her voice stern and her eyes angry. “What have I told you about swinging that sword in the house?”_

_I rolled my eyes, returning to striking the couch cushions with my wooden blade. “I’m going to be a soldier, Ma. If I want to be as good as Pa, I have to practice.”_

_My father laughed, the sound deep and smooth and even. “Come on, Cass.” he said, scooping me off of the couch and carrying me toward the front door. “I’ll take you out for some real practice. Real men don’t strike their mother’s furniture.”_

_I nodded happily, excited to go on an adventure with my father. I waved to my mother as we left, watching her smile and shake her head._

 

 

            I felt my body being dragged across the grass and into the snow, the cold bringing me out of unconsciousness for just a moment. I saw the sky. I saw the trees. I saw Lydia’s face, still so beautiful in panic and tears, above me as she dragged me toward the guards.

            “Please!” she shouted at them. “Help me carry him. We have to get back to the city!”

            I was lifted off of the ground, weightless again as I was carried through the field. I felt no hands on my flesh, though. Just the aching pain of my broken bones as they were forced to shift and make room for the helping hands of guards that carried me.

            “Don’t leave.” Lydia’s voice said. I tried to speak to her, but no words came. “Please, don’t leave me, Cass.”

 

 

_“You lost the bet!” I shouted at my sister, who stared at me in frustration. “You couldn’t scale the wall by yourself. You know the consequences.”_

_Karalissa stared at me wordlessly, her glare like daggers ready to pierce my soul. Still, she scooped up a handful of dirt and put it in her mouth, her nose wrinkling as she chewed it and swallowed, staring at me hatefully as I cackled with laughter._

_After she’d consumed the dirt, she picked up a rock and threw it at me. It hit me in the arm, and I yelled about the moment of pain, but I kept laughing. Karalissa scooped a handful of dirt and jumped up onto my back, smashing the sediment into my face and rubbing it around._

_My jaw dropped in shock as she hopped off of my back and dashed away from me, laughing wildly at the look on my face. I shook my head, running after her and shouting, “You’ll pay for that!”_

 

 

 

            I was set on a table, my body flattening against the cold stone beneath it. A healer stood over me, a woman I’d never seen before. Her hands were cold as she placed them against me, trying to determine what was broken and what wasn’t. She began to heal me, and I heard the snapping and cracking of my bones moving back to their proper places.

            “We need more healers.” she said simply. “I can’t fix this amount of damage on my own.”

            “Of course. I’ll send for someone right away.” another voice said, somewhere in the room.

            I heard Lydia’s voice too, her cries still audible from wherever she stood in the room. “Someone needs to travel to the palace. Send for Cass’ mother and our daughter.”

            “Of course, my Jarl.”

 

 

_I emptied the contents of the flask into the punch bowl, then tucked the flask back into my suit pocket. I gave the bowl a quick stir, then moved away from the table of food._

_I tried to act casual, pretend I hadn’t seen or done anything mischievous, and waited off to the side of the room. I looked at my reflection in the window of the Bard’s College, running my hand over my freshly shaven face and adjusting my suit._

_Karalissa bounded up to me in a long, green dress, her light brown hair and freckled face matching mine. She looked up at me, also trying to act as casual as she could manage. “Did you do it?”_

_“Yep. Did you?” I asked, glancing at the other punch bowl on the opposite side of the room._

_“Mhm.” she said quietly, covering her mouth with her hand. We turned, watching Pantea pour herself a glass of the punch I’d spiked and make a face at the taste, but shrugging and continuing to drink. Karalissa and I both struggled to suppress laughter, clutching each other for support._

 

 

_I snatched the book out of Karalissa’s hand, tossing it across the room and against the wall._

_She didn’t react as big as I thought she would. She just sighed and looked up at me from the couch she laid across. “Why?” she asked, raising a bushy eyebrow._

_“Why aren’t you in class?” I asked, grabbing her arm and yanking her to her feet to follow me out of our house. “I told you I wasn’t going unless you were going.”_

_“And I’m not going.” she said simply, following along behind me anyway. “Let’s just skip.”_

_I froze, amazed that my sister was initiating the bad behavior this time. I usually had to talk her into skipping class, so I was shocked. “Why aren’t we going?”_

_She shrugged, staring up at me with her eyebrows raised. “I don’t know. I just…don’t feel like it, I guess.”_

_I smirked. “Want to mess with Sorex? Corpulus is making him run the counter at the bar today.”_

_Karalissa snorted. “Uh, yeah. Let’s do that.”_

 

 

 

            “Someone needs to send for Karalissa.” my mother’s voice said in the room beyond me. “Cassius will want her here when he wakes up.”

            I heard Catriona crying, a sound that was so rare it made my heart wrench. “I’ll send for her at once, ma’am.” an unknown voice mumbled. “Is there anything else you need, my Jarl?”

            “No, thank you.” Lydia’s voice said. I knew I was in a different room, somewhere warm and safe. I felt Lydia’s hand against my face, heard the pain in her voice. “We’ll all be fine.”

 

 

           

_I looked up from my plate as Karalissa entered the kitchen, sitting quietly at the dinner table across from me and waiting for permission to take a plate. Viarmo stared at her for a moment, then nodded to her. She took a plate from the table and began to add food to it._

_Everything was silent for a long time, all of us sitting quietly and eating the beef Ma had prepared for dinner. Though our ‘family dinners’ were never pleasant, they were rarely this quiet._

_Finally, Karalissa pushed some of her hair away from her face, exposing a dark purple bruise around her eye that stretched across the right side of her face to her jaw. Her lip was busted in the far right corner too, a fresh cut to match the bruises that I hadn’t noticed, since we didn’t have any classes together that day._

_“What the hell happened to your face, Karl?” I asked, dropping my fork before it could reach my mouth._

_“Watch your language, Cassius.” Viarmo muttered, not looking up from his plate to see Karalissa’s face as Ma and I had._

_Ma’s brow furrowed. “Karalissa, what happened?”_

_Karl looked around at us as she untucked her hair from behind her ear to cover the bruise, producing an awkward laugh. “I, uh…I tripped and smacked my face on our bedroom door. Right on the handle.”_

_Viarmo snorted. “Sounds like something that would happen to you, Karalissa.”_

_Karalissa blinked, then laughed again. “Yeah, it does.”_

_I stared at my sister, a sinking suspicion about what had really happened creeping into my brain, but I shoved it back into the deepest parts of my thoughts. “Tripped on what?” I asked, trying to force an admission from her, but she just glared at me._

_Karalissa opened her mouth to say something, but Ma cut her off. “You have to be more careful, Karalissa.” she said, something I didn’t understand in her tone of voice. “I don’t want you getting yourself seriously hurt.”_

_Karl stole a glance at Viarmo, then looked back down at her plate. “I will. I’ll be more careful.”_

 

 

 

_“What are you crying for?” Lydia asked, her brow furrowed to accompany an uncomfortable look on her face. “I wasn’t…I wasn’t trying to—Look, I’m sorry I said those things about that woman, okay? It’s just…you never stop talking about her.”_

_I wiped my face, taking another long swig from the bottle in my hand as I tossed another paper into the fire blazing in the living room of Breezehome. “Sorry to have bothered you, Lydia. I won’t bring it up again.”_

_My housecarl shifted uncomfortably, then sighed as she lowered herself to sit beside me. “Do you…want to talk about it?”_

_“You just told me you didn’t want me to.” I said, rolling my eyes and taking another slug of mead into my stomach._

_“Will you stop?” Lydia shouted, snatching the bottle from my hands. I opened my mouth to curse at her, but she cut me off. “I don’t care that you tell stories, my Thane. I like them. It’s just…you never explain who they’re about, or you’ll tell the same story over and over again. If you gave me a little more to go off of than that, I could understand.”_

_I sighed, laughing to myself as I pulled another bottle from beneath the couch and ripped the cork out with my teeth, spitting it into the fire. “The woman is my sister, if you must know.”_

_Lydia jerked her head back. “You have a sister?”_

_I took in another mouthful of the fire, letting it burn the inside of my mouth before I swallowed it. “I had a sister.”_

_“What happened to her?” Lydia asked, putting her hand over mine. It was the first time we’d actually touched in the months we’d been living together._

_I looked at our hands, then up at her face. I’d always thought she was beautiful, but she was so frigid. I’d never seen this look on her face, one that showed she actually cared. I felt another sob rip from my chest. “I don’t know.” I said, shaking my head._

 

 

            “When will he wake up?” Karalissa asked, and though I couldn’t see her, I heard her voice shake. I could feel her somewhere in the room with me.

            “They don’t know if he will yet.” Lydia mumbled, and I didn’t have to look to know she couldn’t cry anymore. She was exhausted. I could hear it.

            “He’ll wake up.” Vilkas said firmly, no-nonsense as always. “He’s strong. He’ll come through.”

            I heard someone stand from their chair. “He’s never been hurt like this.” Lydia said quietly. I heard someone whisper something, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

            There were footsteps, quick and light, and then I heard my sister crying.

 

 

_I stumbled up to the front door of my home, my legs weak and my flesh stinking of ash and soot and fire. I opened the door slowly, creeping inside and hoping not to wake Lydia, who couldn’t rightfully be up at this hour._

_She was, though. She was awake and sitting on the staircase, my note in her hand and tears glistening in her beautiful blue eyes. When she looked up at me, her jaw dropped, a deafening silence radiating throughout the entire house as I shut the door behind me._

_Lydia stood, clutching the note against her chest as she stared at me with awestruck eyes. She shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping onto the floor below her._

_“Please tell me you’re not a ghost.” she muttered, her lower lip quivering._

_It was probably the funniest thing I’d ever heard, but I didn’t laugh. I just shook my head. “I’m not a ghost.”_

_After a moment, she stumbled off of the stairs and toward me. Without warning, she shoved me, rather forcefully, knocking me back against the door. I reached for my shoulder, which was already sore but now ached even more after hitting the door frame. “Ow!”_

_She glared at me, her fists balled up at her sides and her shoulders stiff. “You left me.” she said, her voice more hurt than angry._

_I nodded. “I did. I left you.”_

_Lydia shook her head, tears reforming in her eyes. She clenched and unclenched her fists. “Why?”_

_I snorted, blinking at her twice before I answered. “Because I love you, Lyd.”_

_She nodded, holding up the note I’d left for her. “You love me?” she asked, a small smile creeping up on the lower half of her face._

_“I do.” I said. “I love you.”_

_Lydia stood still for a moment, then she stalked toward me, throwing her arms around my neck and pressing her lips against mine. It all happened very quickly, then. Every ounce of pain I felt in my body melted away as I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her tightly against me as we kissed._

_She pulled away from me, just an inch or two so she could look at me. She smiled._

_“I love you, too.”_

_“Sorry to wake you, Lissa.” one of the Companions said from the other side of the door. I stood awkwardly in the bedroom, not really knowing what to do with myself as I waited._

_“And yet you two did it anyway.” my sister’s voice made my heart drop. After so many years, I’d forgotten what it actually sounded like. “And you put the Dragonborn in…Vilkas’ room. Is this some kind of late night prank? Because I’m really not interested.”_

_“Surprises.” the twin with the deeper voice said, a smile audible in his voice._

_I heard my sister sigh. “Alright, I’ll meet the Dragonborn in my pajamas. I can promise that this won’t end nicely if this is some sort of joke, though.”_

_I couldn’t contain a laugh, spoiling the surprise because I was genuinely humored by the way my sister tried so hard to seem tough and menacing, but she just wasn’t. It was silent for a moment on the other side of the door. “Vilkas…” my sister mumbled, her voice so quiet, I almost didn’t hear it._

_“The Dragonborn and his wife are waiting for you.” the twin who had a thing for my sister said. “They claim to know you.”_

_It was utterly soundless outside for just a moment, and then the door opened. My little sister, who now looked so battle-hardened and strong, entered the room cautiously, as if I wouldn’t really be there if she came in too quickly. She saw me, though, after a moment, and we stood across from each other, staring each other down and absorbing how different we both looked._

_Though she was still the same as when we were young, Karalissa had gained the tiniest bit of muscle in her arms. She was still awkward and sort of lanky, but she seemed so tough for the first time in her life. She had a scar across her face, descending over her right eye, but she was still Karalissa. She was still her._

_After a moment, she began to cry, stumbling forward and wrapping her arms around me. I couldn’t stop myself from crying too, holding her tightly and laughing and sobbing all at the same time._

_She pulled away from me after a moment, staring up at me as if she were dreaming, blinking several times to make sure I was real. I snorted, trying to think of something endearing to say to her._

_I shrugged. “You look like shit, Karl.”_

_Karalissa laughed. “I missed you too, brother.”_

 

 

            “I don’t know if you can hear me, Cass.” Lydia’s voice said, quiet but loud at the same time. “I just want you to know that everyone is here. Your mother is with Cat, and Karalissa is here with Vilkas.”

            I felt her run her hand over my forehead, pushing my hair away from my face. “We’re all waiting for you, whenever you’re ready to come back. Whenever you can.” I heard her voice hitch, but I listened as she collected herself. The woman was so strong, it made my heart ache.

            “You know,” she said, taking my hand and running her fingers over my open palm. “If I’d known you wanted to get your ass kicked by a dragon, I wouldn’t have helped you slay so many when we first met.” I tried to laugh at that, but I couldn’t. “You would have saved me a lot of heartache, that’s for sure.”

            I wanted desperately to comfort her, to drag her into the bed with me and hold her against my chest, but I couldn’t wake up. I couldn’t move.

            “I miss you, Cassius.” she whispered, her fingertips grazing my nose and my cheeks and my lips. “Please, come back to me.”

 

 

 

_“Viarmo’s dead.” I mumbled, looking up from the letter at Vilkas. Our eyes connected, silently saying the same thing, understanding what this meant._

_“Who’s Viarmo again?” Aela asked, earning a hateful glance from Vilkas as he pushed away from the table to stand. He walked to Karalissa, who stood leaning against the beam supporting the roof as she stared out into the rain that poured down on the courtyard. I watched as he pushed hair away from her face and kissed her jaw, trying so hard to comfort her as she cried._

_“Cassius.” Lydia said beside me. “You didn’t get a letter.”_

_I stared down at the paper in my hand, at the number indicating that this asshole had left money for Karalissa. Of course he didn’t leave any for me, and I didn’t care about that, but he left money to her as a final blow. To hurt and confuse her, or maybe to try to make up for all the times he’d beat her, or maybe to repay her for keeping quiet about it._

_“No, he didn’t.” I said, my voice cracking as I said the last word, laughter threatening to break the silent moment._

_Karalissa began to laugh too, drawing my attention back to her as she stumbled out into the rain. Vilkas called her name, walking down a few steps to follow her, but stopping when we all saw her outstretch her arms, letting the rain flow over her and run down her hair and soak her clothes._

_I understood then how much pain my sister had actually been in. I watched as she stood in the rain, laughing loudly and pushing her hair away from her face, and then I stood from my seat. I patted Vilkas on the back, shrugging against the cold rain as I made my way out to join my sister. She turned to look at me, squinting at me through the rain, and I looked down at my sister as I had all my life. We were quiet for a moment, and then we held each other, laughing and sobbing and celebrating the pain that was being released from both of us._

_I pulled away from her, staring down at her face, wet from both the rain and the tears. “It’s over, isn’t it? It’s over, Karl.” She didn’t have to ask what I really meant, because she already knew._

_She rested her head against my shoulder, a smile on her face. “It is, Cass.” she whispered, clinging to me for dear life. “It’s over.”_

 

 

 

            My eyes fluttered open, my sight only restored in my right eye. I blinked several time to try and bring my vision back, but it never came. I grunted, trying to push myself up with my elbows, but gasping in pain as I moved.

            “No, no.” Karalissa said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t move.”

            I turned to look at her, feeling my brow furrowed as I raised my left hand to rub my eye, to wipe away whatever was blocking my view. There was nothing there, though. All I felt was jagged, puffy flesh tapering away from my eye socket and down my cheek.

            “Don’t touch it.” Karalissa said, taking my hand and holding it tightly. “Are you really awake?” she asked, squeezing my hand.

            I swallowed several times, trying to find my voice. “I…I c-can’t see.” I stuttered, blinking several times.

            Karalissa pursed her lips, smiling in excitement that I was awake, but trying not to react to my statement. She turned her head, looking to the other side of the room. “Lydia.” she called softly. “He’s awake.”

            I turned my head to see Lydia stir from sleep and look at me, her eyes shadowed with dark circles from sleep deprivation and her face drained of color in worry. She blinked, then shot up and rushed toward our bed.

            She sat on the edge of the bed on the side I couldn’t see out of, her eyes glistening with tears as she placed her hands on either side of my face. “Oh my gods, Cass.” She leaned down to kiss me, making my heart skip before she pulled away. “Cass.” She repeated my name, running her hands over my hair. “Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere?”

            I nodded, lifting my right arm to touch the left side of my body. Karalissa put her hand on my shoulder, smiling at me and Lydia. “I’ll go get Danica.” she said, touching my cheek before she left the room.

            I stared up at Lydia, blinking as I tried to make my vision return. “I can’t s-see, Lyd.” I mumbled, my voice barely audible.

            Lydia nodded, placing her hand against the side of my face. “You lost your eye, Cass. They couldn’t save it.”

            “Oh.” I whispered, shutting my eyes entirely because that made sense. I was reminded of the dragon’s tooth, sinking into my eye. I smiled, for whatever reason. “I dreamed about you.” I whispered to her, reaching for her face. “I dreamed about everything.”

            Lydia laughed quietly, running her hand over my hair and her knuckles over my cheek. “I missed you.”

            “It’s only been a few hours, Lyd.” I said with a little laugh, shaking my head. “I know I’m great and all, but you couldn’t wait a few hours for me to sleep?”

            Lydia was silent for a long time, and I opened my eyes because I was worried she was angry with me. When I looked at her, she shook her head. “It’s been four weeks, Cass.”

            “Four weeks.” I mumbled in disbelief, and then in total belief. “You need to sleep.”

            She shook her head. “I’m fine, Cass. Let’s just get Danica in here to make the pain stop.”

            I reached for her, pulling her down to lay beside me. She was stiff for a moment, but she relaxed and rested her head against my shoulder, her arm draped across my torso. “Sleep, Lydia. I just want you to sleep.”

            She never responded, because she did fall asleep. And I followed soon after, cradling her against my chest and drifting away again.

            And it was dark. Warm. Painless.

            Gone.


	25. A Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Brotherhood appoints two recruits to take care of the two remaining contracts. Later, Arabella joins her brothers and Karalissa at the Bannered Mare. Vilkas is smashed.
> 
> POV: Arabella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to remind you guys, in case you missed it in the last chapter: two months have passed since Karalissa and Cassius brought their mother to Windhelm. 
> 
> Also, just a warning, the fic is almost over. Including this one, there are only two POV rotations left (Arabella, Karalissa, Cassius, Arabella, Karalissa, Cassius). Five more chapters, after this one, and the intensity will not ease up.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

            For the first time in a long time, I pulled my hair back. It was in my face and bothering me, in that awkward stage between dirty and clean, and I just wanted to push it away from my face. I looked down at my dress, deciding suddenly that I didn’t want to wear my mourner’s attire today. I walked to my wardrobe and pulled a dark blue dress from the shelf, unfolding it and slipping it over my head.

            I walked to my little vanity, where I usually applied my dark eyeliner, and I looked at my reflection for a long time. I felt more myself than I had in ages, and when I looked down at the black makeup on the table, I decided not to put it on, simply because it wasn’t me.

            Standing from my seat, I moved to my desk to grab the papers that had the information I needed for the meeting I had to attend. I pushed past Veezara, who stood in my way and blocked the desk.

            “You look nice today.” he said, and for the first time since I’d begun to see him, I realized his voice wasn’t quite the same as it sounded when he was alive. It was sort of askew, a little hollow, honestly. And that only made me angrier.

            I sighed, shaking my head as I walked away past him and to my desk. “Go away.” I said simply, compiling my papers and stacking them together. “I told you I didn’t want you here anymore.”

            “Can’t get rid of yourself.” Veezara laughed, rolling his eyes. “Wipe off the makeup, and it’s still you underneath.”

            “Piss off.” I grumbled, walking toward my door.

            “You don’t even say my name.” he said as I placed my hand on the knob. “It’s been months, and you haven’t said my name.”

            I was furious suddenly, unable to stop myself from whipping my head toward him, my voice low and dark. “You’re not _him_.” I muttered. “My Veezara was kind, and compassionate, and loving. You’re cold and angry and taunting because you’re _me_. You’re everything I hate about myself manifested into this big, disgusting image of something I love because you want to hurt me.”

            “ _You_ want to hurt _yourself_.” he said, his smile ever present.

            I blinked, trying to even my breathing. “I’m done with this. I’m done having these bullshit debates with you, these one-sided conversations that don’t make any sense at all. Go away, damnit. Go away.”

            And just like that, Veezara nodded before he disappeared. I was alone, utterly alone in my own mind and room. I stood quietly for a moment, relief washing over me because it was really over. He was gone.

            I smiled to myself, turning back to the door and opening it. I walked briskly down the hallway toward the stairs, climbing them to find myself in the eating area. I earned a few nods of acknowledgment, and a cute little wave from Babette, who was retiring for the morning.

            I climbed the next set of stairs, past the perch where the Night Mother sat when we first arrived in Dawnstar to the room just beyond, below the stairs to the sanctuary’s entrance. Inside, Nazir sat at the table with Nikulas, Cicero standing nearby twirling his knife in his hand. They were all carrying on some nonchalant conversation as they waited, but they looked up as I entered, their expressions shifting from welcoming to curious.

            “Good to see you, Listener.” Nazir greeted, extending his arm to the chair beside him. “Welcome.”

            I took my seat, spreading the papers out across the table. “Hello, all.” I said with a smile, not really looking up at them. “Are we ready to get started?”

            Nikulas cleared his throat when I finally looked at him. “No, my Listener. We’re waiting for Mareena.”

            “Oh.” I said, folding my arms and leaning back in my chair. “Well, that’s fine.” I smiled at Nikulas, nodding to him in acknowledgement. “The Keeper reports that you performed beautifully in Markarth.”

            Nikulas blinked, his eyes never leaving mine. “Oh, uh—yes. I mean, thank you, Keeper.” he stumbled through his words, his gaze straying to Cicero’s.

            Cicero shrugged. “Nothing to thank me for. I rarely lie.” He gave me wink. “Except for when I do.”

            Nazir sighed finally. “Nikulas, would you run and fetch Mareena? We’re not waiting for her all day.”

            “Of course, Speaker.” Nikulas said, standing and striding from the room rather quickly.

            Nazir sighed, dropping his head to the table. “I swear, I try so hard not to dislike her, but there’s something about her that just gets under my skin.” He lifted his head, pressing his hands together and pointing them at me. “You’re asked to attend a meeting with the Speaker, the Keeper, _and_ the Listener, you shouldn’t show up late.”

            I shook my head. “She’s a tough one. We’ll crack her, though.”

            Nazir grumbled something unintelligible as he placed his head back on the table. Cicero moved to lean against the back of my chair, peering over my shoulder. He pressed his lips against my cheek, kissing me softly.

            “You look very pretty today.” he whispered, his lips brushing against my skin and sending shivers down my spine.

            I laughed quietly. “You don’t look so bad, either.” I said, pushing some of his faded, purple hair away from his eyes.

            “Mm.” he mumbled, pressing his mouth against the dark scar on my neck. “I haven’t seen you like this in a very long time. You look exactly as you did the day I met you.” He laughed suddenly. “Except now I can see down the front of your dress.”

            “Terribly rude of you.” I said playfully, nudging his chin with my shoulder. “Maybe you shouldn’t look.”

            “Oh, but the view is—”

            Nazir lifted his face from the table. “I am begging you to stop talking.” he said, shaking his head. “I may vomit.”

            Cicero kissed me quickly and returned to his spot just before Nikulas returned, Mareena close behind. “Ah, our sister arrives late once again.” Cicero muttered, rolling his eyes. “Please, Mareena, join us as we discuss the contracts given to us by the High King.”

            Mareena leaned against the stone beam beside the table, rolling her own eyes. “I wasn’t that late.” she insisted. “It was only a moment or two.”

            “If ‘moment’ translates to ‘hour’ where you’re from, then maybe you’re right.” Cicero said sternly. “Have a seat.”

            Mareena dropped into the chair across from me, her eyes challenging. “Are you going to yell at me?”

            “Not likely.” I said softly. “We’ve asked the two of you here today to discuss a rather important matter.”

            Mareena’s brow furrowed. “What is it, Listener?”

            I raised my eyebrows. “We’re impressed with the ability you two have shown. Mareena, you accompanied Cicero to Winterhold to assassinate Estormo, which he assures me went off without a hitch.”

            “Yes.” Cicero said reluctantly. “Though late and annoying, Mareena performed well.”

            “And Nikulas.” I said, turning to look at him. “You’ve become an outstanding assassin. Even Cicero couldn’t find a single thing to criticize you for, and he loves picking people apart.”

            “Thank you, Listener.” Nikulas said with a smile.

            I nodded. “And it is for this reason that I would like the two of you to see to the death of the two remaining contracts.”

            Their faces lit up, but Nazir was all business. “Celebrate later. Listen to this information now. The remaining contracts are in the Thalmor Embassy. Incredibly difficult to get in.”

            “Nazir is going to relay all of the information we have on our two contracts to you both. The Keeper and I simply wanted to congratulate you.”

            “It’s an honor, Listener. Thank you.” Nikulas said, smiling sheepishly at me.

            “No thanks needed.” I said, standing from my chair. “You’ve both earned it.”

            With that, Cicero and I left them with Nazir. I shut the door behind us, standing silently for a moment before Cicero wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me toward him. He held my body against his, moving my hair away from my face to kiss my neck.

            “Why do you look so pretty today?” he asked. “Not that you don’t look pretty all the time, but just especially today.”

            I shrugged, placing my hands against his chest. “I just feel good today.”

            “You look like _you_.” he whispered, his breath warm against my cold skin. “You haven’t looked like you in so long.”

            I smiled. “I feel like me again.”

            Cicero lifted his head, running his fingertip along my jawline. “If I’d known that completing contracts was bothering you so much…”

            “It wasn’t just that.” I explained. “It was everything. My brothers and our family. Veezara.” I felt my smile fade for just a moment, but it returned shortly after. “I feel like I’ve finally put him to rest. I’ve put everything to rest.”

            “And now, _you_ can rest.” Cicero said, kissing me softly. “You need to rest.”

            I shook my head. “I’m going to visit my brothers today.” I told him. “I want you to come with me.”

            Cicero sighed, running his hand down the length of my spine. “I hate Whiterun. You’ll have plenty of fun without me.”

            I knew my face fell, though I struggled to cover it up. “Oh.”

            He tried to recover. “I don’t mean that I don’t want to spend time with you, Arabella.” he said quickly. “I love you more than I love myself, and you know that. I just…you know me. They don’t like me.”

            “Karalissa likes you.” I sighed, patting Cicero’s shoulders. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, of course. I was just…inviting you, as always.”

            “I mean, I’ll go if you really want me to, babe.” Cicero mumbled, obviously not wanting to go, but willing to do it anyway.

            I shook my head. “No, no. Stay here.” I reached up on my toes to kiss him quickly. “I’ll be back soon enough.”

            “Arabella…” Cicero called quietly as I walked down the stairs to the Shrine of Sithis. “Please, don’t leave mad at me.”

            “I’m not mad, my love.” I called back, crossing the eating area and placing my hand against the glass. I turned to blow Cicero a kiss, which he caught with his hand, a smirk on his face. “I’ll return soon.”

            “You’d better.” he called, a sly smile twisting his features. “I’ll miss you, Listener.”

            I shook my head, rolling my eyes as I left the sanctuary.

 

 

            I tapped Farkas’ hand, earning his attention. “Should we do something about—”

            “No way.” Farkas said, turning his gaze back to our brother. “This is too good.”

            Vilkas snickered drunkenly, his hand on Karalissa’s back and his face pressed into her neck. “Mmm.” he mumbled, laughing to himself. “You smell so good.”

            Karalissa rolled her eyes, patting the side of his face. “Thank you, Villy.”

            Vilkas was absolutely smashed. Usually, he held his liquor fairly well, but on this night, he was rolling in intoxication. Whatever they’d given him to drink was strong enough to push him out of angry and right into funny and affectionate. Farkas and I were taking turns asking him questions, since his filter was a few drinks gone.

            “Alright, alright.” Farkas said, putting his hand up to gain all of our attention. “Vilkas, why do you sleep with a pillow on your head?”

            “I don’t know, F-Farkas.” Vilkas stammered, his gaze never leaving Karalissa’s face. “You are just…you’re beautiful, Kara.”

            Karalissa’s face blushed as she took a small sip of water. “You are too, Villy.”

            “No, but, I mean we all _know_. She’s b-beautiful, right?” Vilkas asked us, and Farkas and I nodded. “But I never say it to you. Not nearly as much as I s-should.” He moved her hair away from her neck, kissing her barely exposed collarbone. “You’re beautiful.”

            Karalissa struggled to suppress a smile. “You’re so drunk, Vilkas.”

            “Vilkas, why are you so mean all the time?” I asked him, drawing his attention back to me and Farkas.

            He jerked his head back. “Why does everyone think I’m mean?” he asked us, genuinely curious. “Am I just this…big, grumpy, ugly, mean man?”

            “Yes.” Farkas said.

            Vilkas groaned, dropping his head to the table with a loud bang. “I swear to the g-gods, I’m a good man.”

            “We all know you’re a good man.” Karalissa said, rolling her eyes.

            Vilkas lifted his head, running his hand through the hair at the top of her head, then leaving his hand against her face. “Why did you love me?”

            “I still love you, Vilkas.”

            He huffed. “Why did you love me when I was mean to you?” he clarified. “When you joined the Companions, I was so mean to you.”

            “You were mean to everyone.” Karalissa said, shaking her head at the tavern-maid as she brought another round of drinks. Farkas lifted his hand to shoo her away, and she did so reluctantly, taking the mead with her. “It was just your thing.”

            Vilkas’ face twisted into an expression I’d never seen before. He placed his hand against her very round stomach. “I want you to know that I would do absolutely anything for b-both of you.”

            “I know that, Vilkas.” Karalissa said, putting her hand against his face to turn his eyes back toward us. “Look, Arabella and Farkas are here.”

            Vilkas blinked at us. “Oh my gods! Hi!”

            Farkas and I laughed loudly, and I felt Farkas’ hand on my shoulder. “What should I ask him?”

            “Something simple.” I suggested. “Something easy for him to mess up.”

            “Bells and I want to know why you’re so ugly.”

            Vilkas laughed loudly. “You’ve always been better looking than me, F-Farkas.”

            “What’s your favorite color?” I asked him, leaning against my palm.

            “Oh, it’s brown.” he mumbled, turning back to Karalissa. He ran his nose along her jawline, leaving a soft kiss at the top of her ear. “I’m so in love with you, Kara. Everything about you is just so good.” Karalissa thanked him for probably the thousandth time that night, then gently turned his face to look at us again.

            “Why do you wear a skirt?” I asked Vilkas, sliding my mug toward him slowly.

            Vilkas smiled, taking my mug and tilting it to guide the contents into his mouth. He swallowed and sighed in satisfaction. “My skirt has many p-purposes. It keeps my legs f-free, and it keeps me warm. It looks right.” He shut his eyes, struggling to open them again.

            Karalissa grinned at me. “His skirt has _pockets_. How weird is that?”

            Farkas snorted. “Okay, so your skirt keeps you warm, but you have to hike it up to take a piss. Like a lady.”

            Vilkas and Farkas laughed loudly, the sound nearly identical. Karalissa struggled to suppress a laugh, too, but I just rolled my eyes. “But why a skirt? Other than the fact that you think it looks good, because the rest of us think it’s weird.”

            Farkas wiped his eyes, still laughing quietly. “Bells is asking the real questions. No one else in the Companions wears that.”

            Vilkas furrowed his brow. “Kodlak wore this armor.” He shook his head, taking another long swig of the mead in his hand. “I just want to be like Kodlak.”

            “You are like Kodlak, Vilkas.” Karalissa said to him, and Farkas nodded. “You’re a good man.”

            Vilkas blinked at her, then he smiled stupidly. He ran his hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face and pressing his lips against her ear. “Have I ever told you that I’m positive you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?”

            I snorted. “You told her that so many times tonight, she’s getting uglier every time you say it.”

            Vilkas ignored me, kissing his way down her jaw to the corner of her mouth. “You’re beautiful, Kara.”

            Karalissa sighed, pushing Vilkas off of her and turning his attention back to us once again. “Thank you, Vilkas.”

            Vilkas turned back to her, tracing her neck with his fingertips. “Don’t thank me, K-Kara. I should say it more often. I think it all the t-time, but I never tell you.” He kissed the corner of her mouth again. “I think you’re beautiful.”

            Farkas’ upper lip curled. “Do you want me to punch him, Lissa? He’s starting to piss me off.”

            I nudged him with my elbow. “Don’t spoil the show, Farkas. It’s so _romantic_.” I said sarcastically, kicking Vilkas leg under the table. He just laughed and brushed his lips over Karalissa’s face.

            Farkas grunted in frustration. “This is so weird. Vilkas, you’re disgusting when you’re drunk.”

            Vilkas pulled his face away from Karalissa’s, extending his arm to press his finger against Farkas’ lips. “Shhh. I’m not drunk if you no one says it.” The three of us laughed loudly, but Vilkas just dropped his head to the table.

            Karalissa shook her head, running her fingers up and down Vilkas’ spine absentmindedly. “He’s tired.”

            “He’s drunk.” I said with a laugh.

            “Well, I know that.” Karalissa said, rolling her eyes. “He’s had a very long few weeks. He’s had to watch the Companions and complete my duties while I was in Windhelm.”

            “You were in Windhelm?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

            “Oh yeah.” Farkas said. “Lissa was gone for more than a month.”

            “Why, though?” I asked, my head cocked to the side as I watched Karalissa take a long gulp of water.

            She sighed as she set her glass down. “My brother nearly lost his life fighting a dragon. He was comatose for four weeks, then I stayed with him for a little while after that, to help my mother and his wife take care of my niece, and to help him get up and moving.” She shook her head. “He shattered his arm, broke a few ribs. Lost his left eye. Lydia said it was horrifying. The dragon just snatched him up in its jaws and whipped him around.”

            “My gods.” I said, shaking my head. “How is he now?”

            “He’s doing fine now.” Karalissa said with a smile. “Our father had just arrived when I had to come back to Whiterun. Cass was very happy to see him.”

            “Well, that’s good.” I said, smiling back at her.

            Vilkas mumbled something profane about the Companions, then lifted his head. He stared at Karalissa, his eyelids heavy and his face sad. “It was terrible without you. I don’t know how you do all of that gods damned paperwork all the time.”

            She placed her hand on the side of his face. “I’m sorry, Vilkas. You didn’t have to do the paperwork, you know. You could have left it for me.”

            Vilkas placed his hand over hers, pulling it away from his cheek and pressing it against his lips. He shut his eyes for a moment, then released her hand and pressed his face against her neck again. “I love you, Karalissa.”

            She smiled, sighing loudly and shaking her head. “I love you too, Villy. You know that.”

            “You’re beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful.” he mumbled.

            Karalissa sighed, her face blushing completely. “Okay, Farkas. It’s time.”

            Farkas smiled, releasing a long sigh before he stood. “Alright, brother. Let’s get you home.”

            Vilkas pouted. “I want to stay with Kara.”

            “I’ll come home soon.” she said to him. “I’m going to spend some time with your sister.”

            “I don’t like being at home without you, Kara.” Vilkas said quietly, his face mashed against the side of hers. “I miss you.”

            Farkas lugged Vilkas to his feet, draping his brother’s arm across his shoulder to support him over limp legs. “Come on, Vilkas. We’re putting you to bed.”

            Vilkas snickered drunkenly. “Tuck me in, Farkas.” He kissed the side of Farkas’ face. “Tell me a bedtime story. We can cuddle.”

            “Shut up, Vilkas.” Farkas laughed, helping our brother walk out of the Bannered Mare, not before Vilkas turned back and announced to the entire bar that Karalissa was beautiful.

            She buried her face in her hands as the doors shut behind them. “Gods be good. That was so embarrassing.” she mumbled, shaking her head and laughing.

            I tapped her foot with mine under the table. “You’re just so…beautiful, Karalissa. I don’t know if anyone has ever told you that, but it’s the truth.”

            Karalissa flipped a rather rude finger gesture in my direction, and I laughed loudly. She shook her head again. “You’re just as bad as them.”

            I shrugged. “Must be in our blood.”

            “You know, I haven’t seen him that drunk since we travelled Skyrim together. We went to Markarth, and Vilkas met this strange man in the bar and they had a drinking competition…”

            Karalissa began to tell this long tale about Vilkas, and how she found him half naked in a temple and there was something about a goat, but I tuned her out as my eyes focused on Veezara, who stood behind the bar. He stared at me, a smile stretching across his face as mine faded.

            Karalissa waved her hand in front of my face. I looked back at her, greeted her confused stare with tears. “Arabella, are you alright?”

            I nodded, looking down at the table. “I’m fine.”

            “You’re not fine.” she mumbled. “There’s something you’re holding in, and it’s eating you alive.”

            I looked up at her, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, my gaze bouncing between her and Veezara. After a moment, I looked around the bar, making sure no one was around to hear us. Then I turned back to her. “Can we…here, come with me.” I stood, taking her hand to help her stand from her chair, her large stomach making the task slightly difficult for her.

            I guided her into the kitchen area of the Bannered Mare, which was vacant. She followed behind me to the table in the corner, where I helped her sit, then took the seat across from her.

            She leaned back in her chair, her brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

            I folded my hands in my lap, staring down at them for a long time before I said anything. “I thought…I thought I’d made him go away, but he’s back now. I can’t…I can’t get away from him.”

            Karalissa’s face grew angry, looking past my head and out at the bar. “Who?”

            “You can’t see him.” I explained quietly. “It’s only me.”

            She sank back in her seat. “I don’t understand.”

            I took a deep breath. “I’m going to tell you something, because I…I really think I’m losing my mind, and I trust you.” I looked back up at her. “Please, promise me you won’t say anything to anyone about this. Especially not Cicero.”

            Karalissa was quiet for a moment, but she nodded. “I promise not to tell.”


	26. The Fight™

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arabella shares a secret with Karalissa.
> 
> POV: Karalissa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning: violence, highly implicit text that is later stated blatantly, language, and, uh, butt-kicking.

            I watched Arabella’s face as she waited for me to respond, and though I was quiet for a moment, I nodded. “I promise not to tell.”

            Arabella took a deep breath, her eyes riddled with tears as she began to speak. “I…I’ve been having hallucinations for several months, now.”

            I jerked my head back. “Hallucinations? You mean you’re seeing things?”

            “Not things.” she mumbled. “Just one person. He follows me everywhere and talks to me, makes commentary that only I can hear. I told him to leave me alone this morning, to go away, and I thought that it worked. But he’s back. He was in the bar.”

            I blinked, absorbing the information. “It’s just…a random man?”

            Arabella was quiet for a very long time, wiping tears away from her cheeks as they rolled away from her eyes. “No, it’s not a random man. It’s Veezara.”

            I shook my head slowly. “I’m sorry, Arabella. I don’t know who Veezara is.”

            She bit the inside of her cheek. “He was my friend. He died.”

            My heart dropped as she spoke, breaking for her when she uttered the terrible words. “Arabella, I’m so sorry.”

            “It was a long time ago.” she whispered, laughing humorlessly. “That’s not the problem anymore.”

            “Then…what’s causing the hallucinations?” I asked, knowing it was a stupid question, but asking anyway.

            Arabella snorted. “Beats me.” Then, her smile faded. “I actually…I think it’s guilt. It’s the lies I’ve told, taunting me.”

            “Lies?” I asked, utterly confused.

            She nodded. “I’ve lied to Cicero for a long time.” she said quietly. “Babette was the only one who knew, and she kept quiet for me.” Arabella looked up at me, shrugging. “Babette is my friend.”

            “Oh.” I cleared my throat. “What—uh, what did you lie about?” Arabella fell silent again, her gaze falling back to her hands. “You can talk to me, Arabella. I have no one to tell, and I won’t.”

            She nodded, but she stayed silent. I wasn’t sure what had compelled her to tell me so suddenly, but I could tell that it was bothering her. She was a good person, and I didn’t want her to hurt. More importantly, she had sat quietly and listened to me spill some of my deepest secrets, about Viarmo and my childhood, and I wanted to do the same for her.

            “Just start at the beginning.” I said to her, nodding in encouragement.

            She took a deep breath, shutting her eyes for just a moment before she began. “I met Cicero outside of Whiterun. I repaired his wheel for him, and we talked for hours about our lives and the things we’d seen. He was…a friend from the moment I met him, someone I needed in my life immediately. Cicero has always been very loud and whimsical and exuberant, but he cares very deeply for the ones he loves, and he would do anything for them. He was absolutely crazy, of course, but he was so good underneath the bad, and I loved the good. It was pure coincidence that we ended up in the same group of…wanderers. We just happened to be going to the same place.

            “Veezara became one of my closest friends when I moved to Falkreath, when I joined the sanctuary. He was…kind and compassionate. He was warm, and he smiled so much, I was worried his cheeks would shatter from being stretched that wide for so long. He showed me the companionship I had craved, because I was alone almost all of my life, and in these people, this sanctuary, I found the only thing I ever wanted. And Veezara was…I don’t know, he knew me, without having to know me at all.

“We were thick as thieves, the three of us: Cicero and Veezara and me. We were very best friends. Veezara and I would travel together and return home to Cicero with stories for days. There was a time when the three of us traveled with Babette to a wedding, and we caused so much trouble, I don’t know how we weren’t thrown from the reception before we left. Cicero was so funny, and Veezara was so kind. We were…we all loved each other.

“I loved them both, and I loved each of them just as much as I did the other, but Veezara and I just had…we had something more. We had this connection that I can’t explain, and I won’t try to, other than to just say it was unbreakable. Cicero and I have always been very close, of course, because we’ve needed each other for a long time. But things became more complicated, as time went on, just as everything always does. Nothing is perfect, for very long. I’m sure you know that.

“Cicero…left the sanctuary. He couldn’t come back for one reason or another, and when I came back, Veezara and I mourned for his absence together. He put me back together, he made me feel like I could do things without Cicero, because I’d been very much dependent on him up until I couldn’t be anymore.” She swallowed. “Cicero left our sanctuary a week before it burned. Veezara and I…we were very much together in that week.”

            My eyes widened as I began to put the pieces together, to understand what she was saying. “Together…like, you were _together_?”

            Arabella smiled. “Yes, like that. I really didn’t mean to fall in love with him, but I couldn’t stop myself. I told him how I felt, told him that I loved him in a different way than which I loved Cicero, but just as much. Something just…clicked, like we were always supposed to be together. Like we were meant to. And then we kissed, and that was it. I was just…infatuated.

“It was one of the very best weeks of my life. We had _one_ perfect week together. We spent our nights under the stars and our mornings with our family. We tried to keep things quiet, and we did, with the exception of Babette, because she’s just too perceptive. I loved him, with every ounce of love I had, and I tried not to, but I was so happy that I just stopped trying. We were actually planning a trip to visit Cicero, to go see him and tell him, because…I loved them both, you see. But I’d made my decision. I needed Veezara.”

            “Only a week, though?” I asked softly, as gently as I could ask such a terrible question.

            She nodded slowly. “I left the sanctuary, and he kissed me good-bye and he waved as I left. I was only supposed to be gone a few days.” She shut her eyes, letting her head roll back for a moment. “He was dead when I came back. I…I found his body. I tried to heal him, but they’d snapped his neck and he’d been gone too long. I remember just…holding him and screaming because I couldn’t save him, and that was the one thing I was supposed to be able to do. I was supposed to be able to save people, to heal them in ways other people couldn’t.

“I pulled him out of the rubble and buried him, with the rest of our fallen family.” She looked at the ceiling. “I didn’t get to say good-bye to him, and I think that’s what hurts the most. Things were perfect for a moment, and then they never existed.”

            I nodded, understanding what she meant by that exactly. “You haven’t told Cicero?”

            “No.” she said quickly. “I can’t.”

            I shook my head. “But why not? He would want to know.”

            “I can’t tell Cicero that I’m grieving for more than a friend.” she explained. “I can’t tell him that I had night terrors about more than just the sanctuary burning, that I dreamt of Veezara holding me and I screamed because the pain was unbearable. I can’t tell him that I took years to recover from the death of our family because I never stopped loving Veezara. I can’t tell him because it will hurt him, and I can’t control him when he’s hurt.”

            I blinked. “I don’t…I don’t understand what that means.”

            “Cicero gets…he gets upset very easily. He’s struggled with his own issues of the head, and I don’t want to make him angry. He’s hard to control when he gets…worked up.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “It’s hard to explain.”

            My face grew hot, my breath hitching. “Does Cicero beat you?”

            “No!” Arabella practically shouted. “No he doesn’t. He just…when he loses himself, it’s hard to find his way back again. He can’t control himself, because the voice in his head tells him to do things that he can’t stop himself from doing. And it’s my fault, half of the time. I say something to set him off and—”

            “Arabella, do you hear yourself?” I asked, putting my hand over hers. “This is easily the unhealthiest situation I’ve ever heard of.”

            “It’s not just me, it’s anyone who stands in his way.” she said quietly. “He’s mad, but I’m twice as mad. He can’t control it, just as I can’t control it. It’s twisted and wrong in so many ways, but it’s right, too. It has to be.

“And I do love him, I really do.” she said, more to herself than to me. “I _love_ Cicero.”

            “Just not the way you loved Veezara.” I finished for her.

            She was silent for a long time, just staring at my hand over hers. “Yes.” she said finally. “Not the way I loved Veezara.”

            A shuffle from the bar caught my attention, and I looked up just as Cicero stepped into the frame of the door. He looked a little different from the last time I saw him, his hair a faded purple instead of its usual red. He was crying, having heard every word Arabella had said. I tapped her hand, my heart thudding loudly as I watched her turn to look at him.

            Her jaw dropped, and he laughed, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I came to Whiterun.” he called to her. “I came because you _wanted_ me to.”

            Arabella began to cry as she stood from her chair. “Cicero…”

            “But you don’t want _me_ , do you?” he asked. “You don’t want me.”

            “Cicero, I can explain.” she called, stumbling toward him.

            He laughed, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I don’t need you to explain anything, Arabella. I’ve heard enough.”

            He left, then, turning on his heel and leaving the two of us in the kitchen in utter silence. Arabella staggered for a moment, then stumbled after him. I rose out of my chair as quickly as I could, and stalked after her, my hand against my back to support the weight of my stomach.

            I opened the door to the Bannered Mare and stepped out into the street, which was vacant except for Arabella and Cicero standing near the well in the center of the marketplace. I walked toward them slowly, noticing that Farkas was emerging from the front door of my house. He raised his hand to wave at me when he saw me, but he stood still when he saw the argument.

            “You were _with_ Veezara?” Cicero spat at her, his voice angry and sharp.

            Arabella nodded slowly, her hands on Cicero’s sides, trying to hold him close to her. “Yes. I was with Veezara.”

            Cicero shook his head. “You…we kissed, and you left me in Dawnstar, then you went right back to Falkreath and _slept_ with _Veezara_?”

            “Yes.” she sobbed, covering her mouth with her hand. “It was more than that, though.”

            Cicero shoved her away from him. “You were in love with _Veezara_. So what was I? What have I been for all this time? Just a _distraction_ from the immense _pain_ you’re in, since the one you really loved is _dead_?”

            “Of course not, Cicero.” Arabella said, shaking her head. “I love you, and you know that.”

            “Do I?” he asked, laughing at her as she reached for him again and he slapped her hands away. “You’re so broken and damaged because _Veezara_ is dead, and you screamed every night for two fucking years because you were _so_ in love with him. And you didn’t think that I should know? That I had a right to know?”

            Arabella grew angry then. “You haven’t any right to know anything. If you hadn’t lost your mind and tried to stab Astrid to death, maybe you wouldn’t have been forced to leave. Maybe you wouldn’t have left us, and maybe the sanctuary wouldn’t have burned!”

            “The sanctuary burned because you were supposed to _die_ in Solitude.” Cicero snapped at her. “And maybe if that stupid lizard hadn’t gotten in the way, Astrid would be dead and the sanctuary would be fine. Then you and _Veezara_ could ‘spend your nights under the stars’ and whatever else you two did out in the fields.”

            “Stupid lizard?” Arabella shouted at him. “Stupid lizard. Veezara was your _friend_ and he didn’t tell anyone that you were alive in Dawnstar, instead of dead by my hand.”

            Cicero laughed. “Yeah, probably because he was _distracted_. You kept him plenty busy, didn’t you?”

            “You son of a bitch.” She swung her fist at him, connecting with his jaw and causing him to stagger back. He recovered quickly, wrapping his hand around her throat and pulling her toward him rather forcefully.

            I couldn’t stop myself, seeing the fear in her eyes and knowing the things I knew now. I stepped into the mix, yanking his hand away from Arabella’s throat and shoving him away from her. It was stupid, to put myself in between Arabella and Cicero, and he didn’t give me a moment to steady myself before he backhanded me, sending snot and spit flying away from my face and knocking me back onto the dirt.

            Farkas was there then, and he collided with Cicero with so much force and speed, I was worried I hadn’t seen it quite right. I did, though, and I watched as Farkas drove his fist into Cicero’s face again and again.

            Cicero wiggled away, much smaller than Farkas and a bit quicker, and he knocked the large Nord on his back, pounding against Farkas’ face with gloved fists three times before Farkas smacked him away. Cicero flew back and hit the Carlotta’s stand in the marketplace, sending her food flying and crushing the front panel of her kiosk.

            Cicero jumped to his feet as Farkas stood, jumping onto his back and grabbing a fistful of his long hair. He held Farkas’ head steady as he slammed his fist into his face. Farkas seemed unfazed, reaching behind him and grabbing Cicero by the back of his neck to lift him up and throw him on the ground. He gripped the front of Cicero’s coat, beating him absolutely senseless as he held the Imperial against the ground.

            Cicero pulled a knife from his boot, driving it into Farkas’ shoulder and scooting away, leaving the blade in Farkas’ flesh. I struggled to get up, to move to Farkas, because he was bleeding a lot and Cicero was up and ready to attack again.

            Farkas just laughed, plucking the blade from his large shoulder like a toothpick and snapping it in half. He grabbed the back of Cicero’s head after he tossed the broken knife to the side, punching him six times before I gained his attention.

            “Farkas!” I shouted, struggling to pull myself to my feet. “Farkas, stop!”

            He did, his head turning to look at me for a moment, then shoving Cicero back just enough to kick him in the chest, knocking him onto the ground as he’d done to me. Farkas turned back to me, wiping his bloody face with the back of his hand and walking toward me.

            He scooped me off of the ground, putting his hands on either side of my face after he set me on my feet. “Are you alright, Lissa?”

            “I’m fine.” I said, wiping the blood off of his mouth with my fingers. I pressed my hand against the stab wound in his shoulder to stop the blood. “We need to take you to the temple.”

            He shook his head. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Farkas turned back to Cicero, who looked twice as bad as Farkas, his whole face swollen and bloody and bruised. Cicero was lugging himself off of the ground, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and laughing to himself.

            I looked at Arabella, who seemed so lost and confused suddenly. She moved toward Cicero, then stopped herself, looking back at me and Farkas. “Are you both alright?” We nodded, holding onto each other for emotional support more than physical.

            Arabella moved toward Farkas, tugging his arm gently so he would lean down, then pressing her palm against Farkas’ wounded shoulder, a soft yellow light emanating from her hand healing his ailment and molding his skin back together.

            Cicero laughed again, wiping the blood away from his face as he turned back to us. “Oh, sure! Heal them, Arabella!” he yelled at her. “Since you trust her so much. Since you could tell her all about Veezara, but you couldn’t tell _me_.”

            “Your reaction is exactly why I didn’t, Cicero.” Arabella said harshly, glaring back at him. “You can’t control yourself, so why would I tell you anything that would set you off? Why would I tell you anything at all?”

            He blinked at her, shaking his head and turning toward the gate and walking away. “Oh, you love secrets, Arabella. You live for secrets. Your whole gods damned life is one big secret!” He paused pivoting on his heel and stalking quickly back toward us. “Secrets! Of course! Since you’re so comfortable telling strangers something you couldn’t even share with me, why don’t we air out the rest of your secrets.”

            Arabella scowled. “Stop, Cicero.”

            Cicero smiled, resting against the well across from us, placing his hands on his thighs and leaning forward. “Is the name Viarmo familiar to anyone?”

            My heart dropped in my chest, plummeting into my stomach and shooting back up into my throat. I squeezed Farkas’ arm. “What about him?” I asked, my eyes darting back and forth between the Arabella and Cicero.

            Arabella looked disgusted. “Shut the hell up, Cicero.”

            “Did anyone tell you how he died?” Cicero asked me. “Or did you just receive the letter?”

            I narrowed my eyes at him, Farkas’ arm tightening around me. “How do you know he…died?”

            Cicero cackled. “Because _I’m_ the one who killed him!”

            Arabella shook her head. “Cicero, _stop_!”

            He raised his hands in mock defense. “Sorry to spoil your cute little story about how we’re all wanderers who live outside of Dawnstar, and our sanctuary was seized and raided by bandits. So innocent and sweet, little Arabella can do no harm, right?” Cicero laughed again, shaking his head at me and Farkas. “We’re assassins. We kill people for money. I’m an assassin. She’s an assassin, or she used to be, when she could keep her lunch down long enough. Veezara was an assassin too, if I remember correctly. Who knows, though? Maybe you both eloped and renounced your blades. I wouldn’t know, would I?”

            “You’re…assassins?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief.

            “Not just assassins. Arabella is the leader of the Dark Brotherhood. She’s the queen of assassins.” he shrugged casually. “She killed the Emperor of Tamriel herself. Earned us a pretty penny for it, too.”

            I turned to Arabella, seeking confirmation and finding it in the way she looked at me, tears in her eyes and her fists clenched at her side. “Why did…you killed Viarmo?”

            “Oh no.” Cicero said. “I did. Arabella couldn’t do it, because she knew he was your stepfather. I did the deed, and Arabella vomited and carried out a conversation with herself outside.”

            “But…” Farkas began, confused as could be. “Why did you kill Viarmo?”

            “Because someone paid us to!” Cicero said, laughing happily.

            “You’re with the Dark Brotherhood.” Farkas said quietly, looking at Arabella.

            She nodded slowly. “Yes.” She didn’t look at us, her eyes vacant.

            “Arabella has had such a hard life.” Cicero mocked Arabella’s accent, laughing to himself as he did. “She was kicked out of an orphanage, she was attacked in the fields, her sanctuary burned. And now, she lost the only man she ever loved. So terribly, terribly sad.”

            “I love you too, Cicero.” she mumbled. “And you know that I love you.”

            “I _don’t_ know, babe.” he said simply, his voice transitioning from angry to just sad. “I don’t know anything about you. And I don’t trust you.”

            “Cicero…” she whispered, shaking her head as he stood straight, turning back to the gate.

            He stopped for a moment to touch her face, utterly unapologetic for what had happened in the marketplace, but very obviously in love with her still. “You have hurt me more than I have ever been hurt in my entire life, Arabella.” he said to her. “Everything I have ever done has been to serve you, to make you feel better, and it was all for nothing, because trying to love you was only making you worse. Because you never loved me. Not the way you should have.”

            Cicero reached into his pocket and pulled out an Amulet of Mara, which he placed in her hand, closing her fingers around it. “Balimund gave me that. A long time ago.” he mumbled. “I don’t…I don’t think I want it anymore.”

            “Don’t leave me, Cicero.” she whispered, clutching his coat and cradling the amulet against her chest. “Please, don’t leave me.”

            “You’ve already left _me_.” he said simply, removing her hand from his coat and setting it at her side. “You’ve been gone a long time, and I couldn’t bring you back. And honestly, I don’t know if I want to, anymore.” He kissed her forehead, his own eyes tearing up as he stepped away from her. “Go home, Arabella. Mother needs you.”

            “Cicero, stop!” she cried after him, following him down the street a ways, but stopping herself before she reached Breezehome. She watched him leave, never turning back to look at her before he slipped through the gate and out into Skyrim.

            Farkas and I watched as she stood there silently for several breaths, then as she began to sob. We didn’t move. We didn’t know how to, because there was so much in the open now, and we were still trying to absorb it.

            But we watched as Arabella looked back at us, just for a moment before she walked to the gates, too. And she left, the same way Cicero had, leaving Farkas and I in the market by ourselves.


	27. A Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassius eavesdrops on a conversation because he's rude. Later, the Felsteads, and the relating extensions, share breakfast in the Palace of Kings.
> 
> POV: Cassius.

            “Damn.” I mumbled, reading over the letter again.

            Lydia looked up at me, interrupted as she brushed our daughter’s light brown hair by my sudden cursing. “What’s the matter?”

            I used my crutch to support the weight of the left side of my body as I walked toward her, handing the letter to her when I finally reached her. “It’s from Karl.” I said, my brow furrowed in confusion.

            Lydia spent a minute or two reading the letter, and I took the opportunity to spend a moment tickling Catriona, who giggled happily when I showed her even the slightest bit of attention. She was getting big, nearly two now, and she could walk and just barely talk. I was proud of that little baby, as proud as I could be.

            Lydia lowered the letter. “Cass…”

            I nodded. “I know.”

            “How did this all happen? I mean…she’s Vilkas’ sister?”

            I shrugged. “That’s what Karl says.” I folded the letter, placing it on the dresser beside me. “I don’t know if I should tell Ma or not.”

            Lyd sighed. “Give it some time. She’s happy right now.”

            “You’re right.” I said, smiling as Lydia picked Cat up and placed her on the ground. “Off to bed, little one?” I asked Cat, who just smiled happily.

            “Oh, yeah. It’s past our bedtime.” Lydia said, taking Cat’s hand. “Tell Papa goodnight.”

            I kneeled down to Cat’s level, her bright blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “G’night, Papa.” she said, giving me a hug with those little arms.

            “Goodnight, Cat.” I said, kissing her cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

            “Okay.” Cat said, smiling happily as Lydia guided her out of the room, headed toward her bedroom. I was so impressed with my daughter, and though I had no idea when babies were actually supposed to walk and talk, I was proud that mine could before two.

            I realized then that I couldn’t get off of the ground from my kneeling position, and when I tried to use the crutch to support myself, I dropped it. “Shit.” I muttered, sort of irritated, but mainly embarrassed. I didn’t want to have to call Lydia down the hall to help me up again, like I was a child in addition to the one she already had to take care of for a month by herself.

            Just as I was about ready to punch myself in the face, a deep voice interrupted my thoughts. “Need help, son?”

            I looked up at Ulfric, who loomed in the frame of my bedroom door. He wore a rather playful look, but his eyes expressed concern.

            I laughed to myself. “Uh, yeah, actually. I can’t get up.”

            Ulfric extended his hand, pulling me off of the ground and onto my feet. When I was up and leaning against the dresser, he reached down to pick my crutch up, handing it back to me so I could support my own weight.

            “Thanks.” I said, feeling my face blush in embarrassment.

            Ulfric patted my back. “No need.” He leaned back against the dresser beside me, folding his arms across his chest. “How are you feeling?”

            While I’d been unconscious for a little more than a month, Lydia and Karalissa had taken care of me while Ma looked after Cat. Karl had told me that Vilkas was here for about a week, but he’d gone back to Whiterun to do Karalissa’s job for her while she was in Windhelm. Apparently, I didn’t respond to any of their attempts to wake me, and they were beginning to lose hope after three weeks.

            It was then that Ma had written to Ulfric, for the first time in probably twenty years, and asked him to come. They were all convinced I was going to die, and she knew Ulfric would want to see me. Of course, what with being the High King of Skyrim and all, it took him a little time to get down to Windhelm after wrapping up his duties and making sure he could safely travel from his own little sanctuary. Almost a week after I woke, Ulfric was in the room with the rest of my family.

            Even still, as he interacted with my very pregnant sister and spent time with his granddaughter, I hadn’t actually figured out if Ma and Ulfric had said two words to each other. Lydia had told me she hadn’t heard them speak either, the chilling awkwardness of twenty years apart driving a wedge between the two of them.

            I sighed. “I feel better than I did a week ago, that’s for damn sure.” I bumped the crutch with my foot. “Now, if I can just lose this thing, I’ll be good to go.”

            Ulfric laughed quietly. “That’s the warrior in you. Eager to get back out into battle.”

            “Well, I don’t know about all of that.” I explained, my eyebrows raised. “I’m content to get old and fat; never lift a blade again if I can have my children climb all over me instead.”

            My father shook his head, smiling a little pompous smile, though it was entirely humorous. “You and I don’t have to lift a blade to win a battle, anyway.”

            I laughed loudly, unable to stop myself. “You’re not wrong.” I sighed again, looking back up at Ulfric. “Where’s Galmar?”

            Galmar had accompanied Ulfric to Windhelm to help take care of me, and though they’d been here for nearly a week, in their old home, Galmar had spent very little time in the Palace of Kings. Lydia and I assumed that it was because he hated children and felt uncomfortable around Ma, Ulfric’s first love and offspring intimidating him more than he’d ever been before. But as always, Galmar did anything Ulfric asked, so he came along to Windhelm at the High King’s request.

            Ulfric chuckled. “You know how he is. He can’t stay in one place for too long.” He shook his head again. “I assume he’s out in Windhelm somewhere, drinking or talking to people.”

            “Maybe he’s with Rolff.” I suggested, shrugging.

            “Oh, no.” Ulfric said, pursing his lips and wrinkling his nose. “Galmar hates Rolff.”

            “But that’s his brother.”

            Ulfric shrugged casually, raising his eyebrows. “Blood makes no difference, in Galmar’s world. Rolff is one of his least favorite people.”

            “I’m sure he has a lot of ‘least favorite people’ if he compares them all to the High King.” I said, nudging Ulfric’s shoulder with my own.

            He rolled his eyes, laughing quietly. “You’re hilarious, Cass.” He stood straight, patting my shoulder before turning toward the door. He pointed to my bed. “Get some rest, son. Don’t waste your energy on tasteless jokes.” Ulfric gave me a wink before he strode from the room.

            I smirked, happy to have spent even a moment with my father. Looking at my bed, though, I quickly realized I wanted to be anywhere but in it. I’d spent so long in that bed, laying in one spot for weeks, and even after I’d come out of my comatose state, I’d had to stay in bed the majority of the following week while Karalissa and Lydia babied me.

            The thought of my wife pulled me from my room, guiding me down the hall to check on her. She was taking a longer time than usual to put Catriona to bed, and I was growing curious. In addition, if she was reading her a story, or something of the sort, I wanted to listen in.

            When I reached Cat’s room, I pushed the door open slowly, revealing that Lydia had fallen asleep reading a book to our daughter. The two were curled up together under the sheets of Cat’s bed, a book in Lydia’s hand and a smile on Cat’s face. My heart surged at the sight, and though I wanted to kiss them both goodnight, I left them alone, shutting the door quietly behind me.

            Out in the hall by myself, the sound of voices in the library caught my attention. I staggered down the hallway, as quietly as I could manage, and I paused outside of the barely ajar library door to listen in. Eavesdropping had always been one of my favorite hobbies, and when I realized that it was my mother and father speaking, I was twice as intrigued. I peeked through the crack of the door, watching as Ulfric walked toward my mother, who was sitting in a large, red chair with a book in her hand.

            “I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to speak.” Ulfric said quietly, lowering himself into one of the chairs by the window near my mother. “Believe it or not, I’ve forgotten how to talk to you after all this time.”

            Ma laughed quietly. “Don’t apologize, Ulfric. It’s been a long, long time. I don’t expect you to pretend to know me anymore, just as I don’t expect to know you.”

            “Things are different.” Ulfric added, exhaling sharply in laughter. They were both silent for a moment before Ulfric continued. “I heard your husband died. I’m sorry for any pain that caused you.”

            Ma sighed then, a long and sad sound. “I wish everyone would stop apologizing for his death. It’s no one’s fault but his.”

            “Well, I’m sure there’s plenty of blame to be placed for someone’s death.” Ulfric said, his voice rather somber. “Still, I’m sorry you lost him.”

            My mother was silent for a long time. “Can I be completely honest with you?”

            “Of course.” he said, watching her intently.

            Ma looked into the fire in the fireplace, shaking her head slowly. “I didn’t…I didn’t really… _care_ that he died.” She turned back to Ulfric. “Does that make me heartless?”

            Ulfric nodded his head from side to side, considering her words. “Well, I suppose that depends on why you didn’t care.”

            “I didn’t care because I became someone I hated for him.” Ma said softly, as if she were afraid to say it out loud. “I became a woman who was weak and stupid, and willing to do anything he wanted.”

            “You loved him.” Ulfric said. “That doesn’t make you weak.”

            Ma snorted. “I’m sure our children have told you plenty about Viarmo. You know exactly who he was and what I became.”

            Ulfric was quiet again. A few moments passed before he said anything. “They told me enough. They didn’t even say most of it to me, but to each other.”

            “I hurt them both terribly, Ulfric. I broke our children’s hearts, in more ways than one.”

            “Don’t say that, Fjoli.” Ulfric mumbled to her.

            “It’s true.” Ma said, and I heard her voice shake. “Viarmo was…Viarmo was horrible to them, and I just let it happen. I let him do whatever he wanted, send them wherever he chose to send them. He said things to Cassius that I know he carries around constantly. I can see it in his eyes when someone jokes with him, calls him ‘pig-headed’ or ‘selfish’ to poke fun at him, and he almost flinches. And he beat Karalissa, Ulfric, and I let it happen. I didn’t do anything but tell her to be more careful, to watch what she said around him.

            “I broke their hearts, Ulfric. I failed our children, because I didn’t protect them. I chose to let them leave Solitude and survive the world instead of sending Viarmo away. They talk about living in the Rift, and about the things they’ve seen and the adventures they’ve had, but I know they’ve both experienced terrible things. Things they wouldn’t have had to if I’d been a mother to them, like I was supposed to be.

            “I wish I could take it all back. I wish I would have never married him, because maybe then, everything would be different. Maybe they wouldn’t hurt so much from the things that I failed to shield them from.”

            Ulfric sighed, putting his hand over Ma’s. “All three of you endured terrible things, and you came out clean on the other side. It may have taken far longer than any of you would have liked to, but Cassius and Karalissa are both happy with the lives they have now.” He paused for a moment, laughing to himself. “You know, Karalissa said something when I spoke with them about why I didn’t tell them I was their father, when I went to Cassius’ home in Lakeview. She said that she wouldn’t change anything that happened, because she loves the life she has now.”

            I could hear the smile in Ma’s voice. “Vilkas loves her, more than I’ve ever known anyone could love another person. He’s a good man; he’s kind and giving, and he can cook well, and he looks at Karalissa as if she’s the closest to Sovngarde he’s ever been.” Ma laughed. “And Lydia, my gods. I knew she loved Cass, but the way she hovered over him when he was gone for so long. She never left his side. And even before that, even now, I see how much they love each other, Cass and Lydia. They just have this way of…looking at each other, like they can speak without even opening their mouths.”

            “They’re good people, all of them.” Ulfric said. “You raised two very strong and honorable Nords, Fjoli. Don’t ever refuse to credit yourself for that.”

            “They’re just like you.” Ma whispered. “They remind me of you every single day.”

            Ulfric laughed. “Well, I hope they’re not _just_ like me. I’ve made my fair share of poor choices. I often wonder if I made the right choice by leaving you all. Maybe I was wrong for all of these years. Maybe I wasn’t putting you in danger by being with you. Maybe I could have…been the father I wanted to be.”

            “You did what you thought was best, Ulfric.” Ma said, shaking her head and smiling at my father. “No one can blame you for doing what you thought was best.”

            “You can place plenty of blame on me, Fjoli.” Ulfric countered, still smiling. “If I hadn’t left you to raise them on your own, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

            Ma shook her head. “I think…I think everything turned out the way it was supposed to. We’re all happy now, and I think that’s what’s important.”

            I shifted my weight to my other foot, losing my balance momentarily and toppling forward. Before I could hit anything or be detected by my parents, a firm hand on my shoulder steadied me. I turned to see Galmar, who had somehow snuck up on me and joined me in listening in on their conversation. I nodded to him in thanks for catching me, and he simply shrugged, turning back to the door.

            “I’ll never forget the day I saw them both for the first time.” Ulfric said, shaking his head. “For Cassius, it was Helgen. I was riding in this wagon with one of my soldiers and these two men I’d never seen before. One was an Imperial horse thief, and the other this rugged Nord who had obviously been living off of the land for a while. He had been in the camp with my men, talking about joining the ranks, but I didn’t realize he was Cassius until he spoke.

            “They unloaded us from the wagon and lined us up, called off names and ordered my men to the block. They’d called my name, and I’d fallen into place before General Tullius to be executed, and I heard the Imperial with the list ask what his name was, and when he said ‘Cassius Felstead’, gods, my heart dropped. It was this moment where I had to…sort of double take, because it didn’t seem like it had been nineteen years since I’d seen him last. I didn’t expect Cassius to be this tall, burly man with a long beard and even longer hair. I didn’t expect to see him anywhere but Solitude, and especially not at the Imperial chopping block.

            “And then, after so many years of seeing him and speaking to him, he brings Vilkas and Karalissa here to speak with me about joining my troops. I took one look at Karalissa, and I didn’t need any sort of explanation or introduction. I’d only ever seen her when she was less than a year old, and I knew she was my child. She’s the spitting image of you, Fjoli.” Ulfric laughed. “She acts just like you, too. The first thing she did was challenge my beliefs when she had a chance, asked me why I fought for the things I fought for.

            “Years and years of silence and wondering, and the moment I saw both of them, all I wanted was to take them in and shield them from the world. To tell them all of the things I never got to tell them, share stories and the love I had for them. But I couldn’t. Not without telling them that I was their father, too. And as horrible as it sounds, I don’t know that I would have told them at all if Galmar hadn’t made me.”

            “Why did he make you?” Ma asked him, her brow furrowed.

            Ulfric laughed again, a private laugh that I barely understood. “Galmar has always known me better than I know myself. It was eating away at me, knowing my children were just within my reach and not reaching out to them. He took away my choice, because he knew I would chose incorrectly.”

            Ma smiled. “Galmar is a good man, too. You always spoke fondly of him.” She paused. “He hasn’t spent much time in the palace.”

            “He doesn’t know how to behave around any of you.” Ulfric said simply. “Galmar has never been a man of many emotions. He only knows how to be angry. It’s hard for him to express that he’s pleased to be around the lot of you, so he simply doesn’t. It’s easier for him to roam Windhelm and pop in every once in a while to see what we’re doing.

            “He asks about Cassius and Karalissa constantly, though. Asks if I’ve heard from them, and if I haven’t he asks why I haven’t written them. Tells me I’m stupid for assuming they wouldn’t want me checking in on them all the time. Tells me I’m stupid if I think they don’t want to talk to me. Tells me I’m the stupidest man he’s ever known.” Ulfric laughed. “And he’s right. I’m a stupid man.”

            Ma laughed along with him, shaking her head. They were both quiet for a while, staring out of the window at the city below us. Then, she sighed. “You always loved that man. It was enviable, the way you loved him.”

            Ulfric sighed. “I have. I’ve always loved him.”

            I watched as Galmar’s face blushed, the smallest smile creeping up beneath his beard, and I had to blink to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. I wasn’t, though, and when he noticed I was watching, he scowled again, nodding to the door to silently tell me to mind my own business.

            Ma smiled. “We were always better friends than anything else.” she said to Ulfric, placing her hand over his. “I’ve missed you.”

            He smiled. “I’ve missed you, too.”

            And they were quiet after that, not having to say anything else because everything they needed to say had already been said. They simply sat together, enjoying each other’s company after so many years without.

           

 

 

            Lydia and I stared in horror as Catriona uttered a curse word when I knocked my cup over at the breakfast table. It was because I always cursed when I knocked something over or dropped something, but I’d never, in thousands of years, expected to hear such a foul word out of that little mouth.

            Ma shook her head. “Look what you’ve done, Cassius.”

            Ulfric was laughing near uncontrollably, more at the look on my face than the fact that my daughter had just said a bad word. “Close your mouth, son. You swear like a sailor. You should have known she’d pick up a word like that.”

            “Oh…my gods.” I put my hand on the side of my daughter’s face. “Cat, don’t say that. That’s a bad word.”

            “You and Mama say it, Papa.” she said, utterly confused.

            “Well, we won’t say it anymore, little one.” I pushed her cup toward her. “Drink your juice.” Cat obeyed happily, taking a long sip of juice from her little cup.

            I turned back to Lydia, who stared at me with an expression that was somewhere between anger and humor. She raised her eyebrows, silently asking me which one of us she heard the word from, because Lydia said it fairly regularly, too.

            I shook my head, reaching behind me and grabbing a rag to sop up the juice I’d spilled that triggered the curse word, still in shock. Ulfric put his hand on my shoulder, taking the rag from me to wipe up the liquid I couldn’t reach. “You cursed when you were little too, Cass.” He stole a glance at Ma, then turned back to me. “She put soap in both of our mouths.”

            “And a lot of good that did.” Ma mumbled, shaking her head at me still. “I should probably put soap in all three of their mouths.”

            Lydia nodded. “If it happens again, that’s what we’ll do.”

            Ulfric laughed, tossing the wet rag into the bin by the door before he approached Ma, who was cooking at the stove in the corner. “Do you need any help?”

            “No, no.” Ma said with a smile. “Breakfast will be ready in a moment.”

            Galmar entered then, taking a seat across the table from me silently. We all stared at him curiously, because he hadn’t shared a meal with us in the entire time he’d been in Windhelm with us. He looked around the room, then locked eyes with me, silently begging me to draw the attention away from him.    

            I sighed. “You missed it, Galmar. My child is swearing.”

            Galmar snorted, fiddling with the glass in front of him. “Doesn’t surprise me. I’ve heard you say some terrible things.”

            “Cassius!” Ma nearly shouted, laughter polluting her voice. “Is there anyone who doesn’t know how foul your mouth is?”

            “Well, the Battle-Maiden has said some terrible things, too.” Galmar offered to help me out. “I wish to the gods that you all could have seen what Cass and I did in Mistveil Keep, when Lydia punched Maven Black-Briar in the face and took her circulet. She said some choice words then, too.”

            Lydia rolled her eyes. “Not like she didn’t deserve it.” She shook her head sarcastically. “May her soul rest peacefully, wherever it went.”

            Ulfric took the seat beside Galmar, pouring something that quite obviously wasn’t juice in the glass in front of his housecarl. Galmar gave him an appreciative look, which Ulfric responded to with a wink. He knew Galmar was trying to be involved, and he wanted to make it a little easier for him, which worked as Galmar took a long swig of his drink.

            Ma raised an eyebrow at them, setting a bowl in front of me. I smirked at Ulfric. “Where’s _my_ wink, my King?”

            Ulfric shot me a glance that was rather challenging, but Galmar was quick to respond. “Well you’ll be doing plenty of winking yourself, Dragonborn. I’m sure you can manage without the King’s.”

            I adjusted the cloth covering my absent left eye, scowling at Galmar. “You’re hilarious.”

            “Question.” Ulfric began, leaning toward me. “If you only have one eye, is it a wink or a blink?”

            Lydia snorted, nearly spitting the juice she’d been sipping out onto the table. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my gods. Which is it?” She waited for me to answer. “Wink or blink?”

            “Well, I don’t think you’d like the thought of me winking at everyone I see.” I muttered, stirring my oatmeal with my spoon.

            “I doubt they’d like it very much either, Cass.” Lydia said, smirking at me playfully. “One-eyed Dragonborn winks at everyone. Confuses and disturbs women of the nation.”

            Ulfric and Galmar laughed wildly, patting Lydia on the back. I grumbled. “Bunch of assholes, all of you.”

            “Watch your mouth, Cassius.” Ma mumbled, glancing at Cat as she set oatmeal in front of Ulfric and Galmar. “You’ve done enough damage.”

            I raised my hands in defense. “We don’t even know if it was me. Could have been Lyd. Could have been _you_ for all we know.”

            Ma laughed as she set a cup of coffee in front of my wife. Ma had always loved memorizing exactly what everyone had at meal time, and she knew that Lydia never ate breakfast. As she set the cup down, she placed her hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “Lydia is a kind and intelligent young woman. She would never say something so horrible, because she’s a _lady_. _And_ because if I’d heard her say it, I’d put soap in her mouth.” She leaned down to look at my wife. “Isn’t that right?”

            Lydia nodded, her eyes twinkling with playfulness. “Of course, Fjoli. And even if it were to accidentally slip out, it would be because Cassius Felstead is a terrible influence on me. A truly horrible man.”

            “I know.” Ma said, kissing Lydia’s cheek and giving me no more than a glance of disappointment. Lydia watched Ma until she was certain she wasn’t looking, then flipped her middle finger at me. Galmar snickered.

            I would have poked fun at her, or tried to start something to make her angry, but Lydia loved ganging up on me with my mother. Since she’d come to live in Windhelm with us, Lydia had spent every free moment she had with Ma, and I knew that it was simply because Lydia missed having a mother of her own. From what she’d told me about her mother, I knew that Lydia and her mother didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, and that drove a wedge between them. Especially since Lydia stood firmly with what she believed in.

            So instead of egging them on, I let Lydia have this one. “You’re right, Ma. Cat probably heard it from me.” I said with a sigh. “I’m a terrible man.”

            “That’s right.” Ma said, smiling over her shoulder at me. “Eat your oatmeal, Cass. It’s getting cold.”

            And I obeyed because there was no reason to ruin a perfect morning by arguing. I watched as Ma took a seat beside me with her own bowl of oatmeal, and she scratched my back to let me know she was only teasing me. I shared a private glance with Lydia, who loved to screw with me because she knew she could. I snuck a peek at Galmar and Ulfric, who were eating their breakfast in silence, but sitting close enough to each other to bump elbows every once in a while. I stared in wonder at my daughter, who was eating her oatmeal on her own with a little spoon.

            It was then that I realized this was exactly the life I wanted. I had everything I wished for, my own family, absolutely beautiful wife and perfect daughter. I had Karl, forever my very best friend, and Vilkas, who had become like a brother to me after all this time. I had my mother back, after so many years of not having her at all. I had my father, who I’d known to be dead for so long, but who had been so close by, and he came with Galmar, who was stubborn and angry but also caring and loving.

            And I was absolutely happy because though I’d lost so much through my life, my damned eye now included, I had gained so much more. I was exactly where I wanted to be, exactly how I wanted to be, and exactly who I wanted to be. I was me, as I’d always imagined.

            And it was exactly then that Galmar knocked his liquor over, and Cat uttered the foul word again. I nearly choked on the oatmeal in my mouth. “Catriona!” I called to her. “Do _not_ say that word.”

            “But _you_ said it, Papa.”

            I rolled my head back, letting it go limp on my shoulders. “Oh gods damnit.”

            “Cass!” Lydia laughed, setting her cup down. “That is exactly why were in this situation. Watch your damned mouth.”

            Ulfric laughed loudly, the sound deep and even. “You _both_ swear like damned sailors. There’s plenty of blame to go around.”

            “And you don’t say words like that?” Galmar said to him with a nudge. “Your damned mouth is worse than theirs.”

            Ma pushed away from the table and stood from her chair, shaking her head and sighing. “I’m getting the soap right now.”


	28. A Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arabella and Cicero talk things out. Later, Nikulas returns from contract with very bad news, and the fate of the Dark Brotherhood rests in Arabella's hands.
> 
> POV: Arabella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.

            Babette sat in the chair across from me at my desk, her little feet dangling above the ground as she struggled to scoot the chair forward.

            I wanted to laugh at the sight, but I couldn’t around the lump in my throat. I tried to swallow around it, but that wasn’t possible either. Instead, I simply waited for her to speak, because I knew she had come to offer me some words of wisdom.

            “How are you feeling, Listener?” Babette asked when she finally situated herself in a comfortable position.

            I nodded. “I feel fine today.”

            Babette sighed. “There’s no point in lying to me, Arabella. You’ve never been able to, so there’s no reason to start now.”

            I nodded again, knowing she was absolutely right. “I’m worried for him.” I told her, biting the inside of my cheek. “I’ve never gone more than a week or two without speaking to him, and even in that span of time, I had Lucien keeping tabs on him.”

            “You know he doesn’t want to be found.” Babette reminded me. “Especially not by you.”

            My heart plummeted for about the thousandth time because it was the truth. Since the scene we’d caused in Whiterun, after Cicero overheard my admission to Karalissa, I hadn’t seen or heard anything from him. It had been almost a week now, and I was beginning to think he wasn’t coming back at all.

            “What if he never returns, sister?” I asked quietly. “What if he can’t bear the thought of being around me anymore?”

            “He needs time to think.” she rationalized. “He needs to be by himself for a while.”

            I nodded. “I really, really didn’t mean for him to be hurt.”

            “I know that. And he knows that, too. But what he heard was…a lot of information that needed to be processed.”

            “I know.” I sighed, looking down at my desk again, just for a moment, and then standing to walk toward my bed. “I’ll probably go back to sleep, if that’s alright with you, Babette.”

            “Of course, Listener.” Babette said, standing from her chair as well. “I’ll be next door if you need me.” She began to move toward the door, but she stopped herself, turning back to me. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you told him. It’s been far too long, keeping Veezara to yourself, and I think that if anything, this will be good for you. Maybe it will help you heal.”

            I nodded to her. “Thank you, Babette.” She smiled to me, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

            I released a long sigh, crawling into my bed and wrapping myself up in the covers. I shut my eyes, willing my brain to stop working, but it simply wouldn’t.

            I would have never uttered a word about Veezara if I’d known it would hurt him like this. I’d always imagined telling him and the way he would react, and though I never imagined anything good, it was never like this. I knew he would yell and cry, and I figured he would rough me around if he was angry enough, but I’d never imagined he would stab a man or backhand a pregnant woman.

            And I knew, in my heart of hearts, that it was exactly something he would do, because there was nothing he wouldn’t do. There was absolutely nothing that could stop him when he was angry, and I was the one who made him the angriest. We were a pair that was beautiful and ugly, and we were either one or the two. And though I’d always valued the good we had together, the bad seemed to be seeping through the cracks, threatening to break us for so long, and we’d finally succumbed.

            Even though I regretted saying anything to Karalissa, it all needed to be said and Cicero needed to hear it. There was so much that still needed to be heard, so much to say to each other, and if he would only come home, we could. But it was up to him. I would let him decide for both of us.

            And with that thought, I’d fallen asleep. Drifted into the soft, quiet dark of sleep.

 

 

            I woke suddenly when my door opened, the pitch black of my room preventing me from identifying the figure in the doorway. I sat silently, a sinking suspicion of who it was creeping into my brain, and waited for them to say something.

            When he didn’t speak, I waved my hand to ignite the candles around my room, illuminating the dark and revealing Cicero standing in the doorframe. He held his jester’s cap in his hands, wringing it nervously as he stared back at me. We watched each other cautiously for a long time, both of us wanting to say all of the things we needed to, but both of us rendered speechless in the other’s presence.

            Finally, he spoke. “Can I come in?” he asked, his voice quiet.

            “Of course.” I said, scratching the back of my head and then, struck by sudden self-consciousness, running my hands through my hair to make it look a little better, as if I hadn’t just been sleeping.

            Cicero shut the door behind him, and he strode slowly across the room toward me, resting on the edge of my bed. He sat stiffly, as if he hadn’t sat on the edge of my bed a million times before, and his eyes roamed my face as mine did his. It was almost as if I hadn’t seen him in years, as if I didn’t really know him anymore. But I did know him, better than anyone else, just as he knew me.

            He cleared his throat. “How are you?”

            “Fine.” I mumbled, looking down at my hands in my lap. “And you?”

            “Fine.” he said, nodding to himself.

            I nodded to, in encouragement for both him and myself. “Good, I’m glad.”

            We were both quiet after that, looking at anything but each other. After so many years of ease, just talking to each other the way we always could, we were at a loss. I decided then that we couldn’t tiptoe around this; that we needed to jump in and hope for the best.

            I nudged his leg with my foot, and when he looked up at me, I smiled crookedly. “How about Cicero asks the Listener a question, and she answers. Then the Listener can ask Cicero a question, and he answers.”

            Cicero was struck silent for a moment, reminded of one of the core elements of our friendship, founded on this very game. It was a game we hadn’t played in a very long time, not since just after Falkreath burned. Still, after a moment of processing, and realizing that I was utterly serious, Cicero smiled, a small smile that looked more like the real him, the Cicero he hid from everyone in the world, than I’d ever seen.

            He shook his head, laughing to himself. “I’d forgotten all about our game, little Listener.” he mumbled, his eyes betraying the sadness he felt when he looked up at me. “I forgot all about _us_.”

            “I did, too.” I said, nodding to him. “You can go first.”

            He took a deep breath before he asked his question. “Are they alright? Your brother and his wife?”

            I jerked my head back, not expecting that to be his first question. Still, I nodded my head. “That’s not the brother that’s married to her, but yes, I assume they’re both fine.” I shrugged. “It’s not like they were really, really hurt. Of course, I didn’t stay much longer than you did.”

            “Oh.” Cicero said, sort of confused. “I thought you had stayed with them after…” He shook his head. “I suppose I sort of took that from you, though. They’ll never trust you again.”

            I sighed. “Even if you hadn’t told them about the Brotherhood, I wouldn’t have stayed. They’re my brothers, but I belong here. _This_ is my family.” Cicero nodded, seemingly rather pleased with that answer. “Where did you go?”

            Cicero scratched his nose with his index finger. “Markarth, actually. I was spending some time with my old friends, the Forsworn.” He smiled playfully, but I knew he wasn’t joking. He rolled up his sleeves to expose all of his new tattoos. “I got a few new pieces, learned some new tattooing methods. I also did a fair amount of skooma and slept with a few of the women.”

            I raised my eyebrows, clearing my throat as he said it. “Well, I appreciate the honesty.”

            “You know me.” Cicero mumbled, rolling his sleeves back down. “I rarely lie. Except for when I do.”  He sighed then, watching my face as he spoke. “I didn’t say that to hurt you. Just to let you know.”

            “I know.” I assured him, not even angry about it in the slightest, to my great surprise.

            Cicero took a deep breath, putting his hand over my own. “Before I ask the question I want to ask, and I’m positive you know what it is, I want to apologize for the way I reacted in Whiterun.” He took another breath. “I did a lot of thinking about it, and I’m angrier with myself, for the things I said to you about him, because I shouldn’t have said them. And I didn’t mean most of them.”

            I nodded. “I know. And I’m sorry for the way you found out. I should have told you a long time ago.”

            He pursed his lips for a moment, moving his hand away from me again. “What happened between you and Veezara?”

            I took a breath for myself, shifting slightly on my mattress before I said anything. “After I left you in Dawnstar, I was…my mind was reeling. I’ll be completely honest, because I owe you that. I was…horrified of the things that had just happened. You very nearly strangled me to death, and then you kissed me, and I was trying to make sense of all of it. I was trying to understand the feelings I had, because they didn’t make sense to me. I should have been afraid of you, and I just wasn’t because you were Cicero, and I trusted you more than anyone in the world.

            “When I returned to Falkreath, and after I convinced Astrid that I had killed you, she told me that I’d done a great service to the sanctuary and actually told me that I should take your old room.” I shook my head. “As if your room were some prize that came with taking your life. But I crawled into your bed and didn’t leave for a whole day. I just sat there and listened to Lucien, who was keeping tabs on you for me, I’m sure you noticed.”

            Cicero nodded. “I did.”

            “In the night, after everyone else was asleep, Babette and Veezara brought my things from my bed I had been sleeping in, and when I was relatively unresponsive, Veezara asked Babette to leave us so we could speak. When I sat up, finally, to tell him to piss off, he told me that he already knew I hadn’t killed you. He’d lied to the rest of the family, told them he knew me better than anyone and that he knew I had killed you. He told me I had to stop wallowing, because everyone needed to think I didn’t feel so much for you, because otherwise they wouldn’t believe you were actually dead. And he was right.

            “And then he noticed the bruises you’d left on my neck. They were perfectly shaped to match your fingers, and it made him furious. He…I don’t know, he was just…angry.” I laughed to myself, remembering the look on his face and how out of place it had been, unnatural on such a happy face. “I had to explain it to him, then. I told him that I thought there was another voice in your head, one that told you to do things that you couldn’t help but do, and it was the voice that did it, not you. And I told him that I knew it sounded crazy, because there was so much bad in it, but underneath it, the bad in you, there was good, and I loved the good. I still do.

            “And then, I told Veezara that I felt something similar for him that was also very different. That I loved that he was so happy and loving, and I loved how much he smiled, and I knew he would lay down his life for anyone.” I paused, watching Cicero’s face for a reaction, but there was none. “I told him that I hated myself for it, for loving you both, because it was the exact way to lose you both. And I couldn’t be without either of you. I wouldn’t survive it.

            “I don’t know how it happened, but something just clicked. After I’d said the things I’d said, not even meaning to say them, really, he leaned forward and kissed me, and I felt this…this relief that I hadn’t felt in years. I don’t know how to explain it, I just…I loved him. I loved him then and there, and I couldn’t stop myself.

            “After that, we’d invited Babette back into the room to help move furniture and clean, because you’re a damned mess.” Cicero finally showed some emotion, laughing quickly. “She painted a little window near my bed, because that was something you’d offered to do for me to keep me from sleeping outside.”

            Cicero exhaled sharply, furrowing his brow. “I remember that. I told you I’d carve you a window if you wanted a change of scenery.” He looked around at the windows he and Babette had created for me. “I didn’t know that that’s what these were. I thought Babette came up with it. I didn’t know they were for…me.”

            “They always have been.” I said, nodding before I continued. “After everything was tidy and Babette had left us, Veezara just held me for a long time, and I knew then that he loved me too. We spent the rest of that week together. We took a contract or two together, ones that were nearby, and we spent the mornings and days in the sanctuary with the rest of the family. And at night, we’d roam because neither of us slept much. We learned everything about each other, told each other stories about…everything.

            “It was so easy, to be with Veezara. I was easy to love him, and that’s what I loved most. It was…like it was always supposed to be that way. To fall asleep next to him and wake up next to him. To listen to him mumble in his sleep, to roam the fields with him, to hold his hand when we walked the halls of the sanctuary if we thought no one was looking.

            “We did plan to tell you. That wasn’t a fabrication to make me sound less…two-timing, when I told Karalissa. Veezara and I both agreed that we wouldn’t be open about our relationship until you knew, because you were our very best friend. We had planned to take the next contract closest to Dawnstar, after the Emperor was dead, and we would tell you everything then. We promised not to say anything to anyone until we could tell you together.

            “It didn’t happen that way, of course, and you know that. You know that Astrid set me up as a bargain to be made to the Emperor’s guard, and you know that I escaped because I jumped off of the wall of Solitude for the second time. I traveled home, as quickly as I could manage, and I found Festus and then watched Arnbjorn die. And then, I walked into the alchemy lab, and there he was.

            “He was broken and limp, and I ran my hands over his body to try and find what had killed him, and I found that they’d snapped his neck. And I tried to heal him, Cicero. I tried so hard, and I just couldn’t. It was the one things I was supposed to be able to do, and I couldn’t do it. And I…just cried. I held him in the middle of the fire, and I just cried.

            “And it was that. That’s what I dreamed of for all of those years, when I would wake up screaming. I dreamt that everything was fine, and then the sanctuary was in flames. And then I was holding Veezara, and then it would be something else. Something different every time. It would be him holding me, or him looking down at me about to speak, or him laughing. My own mind taunted me, because I failed at the one thing I’m supposed to do.

            “And I didn’t tell you because we couldn’t tell you together, and that’s what we promised. I wish we could have. I wish I could have had more time with him, because the way it ended was so unfair. Everything that’s happened has been unfair, but not just to me. To you. I’ve been unfair to you, because you were trying to help me heal, and I didn’t tell you what I was grieving. Because it wasn’t the loss of the family. It was the loss of Veezara. I lost Veezara, and that’s what hurt more than anything else. More than the fire, and the betrayal, and the tears from Babette and Nazir, and Mother’s words. It was Veezara.”

            I took one more deep breath, steadying my shaking voice. “But I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have.”

            Cicero took a few moments to inhale and exhale, nodding to himself as he absorbed the story. There was no expression on his face, just a vacant stare above pursed lips. He ran his hand over his face, pressing his nose against the palm to will himself to feel something.

            Finally, he looked up at me. “I know…I know you’re sorry, Arabella. And I can’t be angry about this because I know you didn’t intend to hurt me with it. I’ll forgive you if you can forgive me.”

            I felt my brow furrow. “Forgive you for…what?”

            He moved toward me then, placing his hand against the side of my face. “I’m sorry I never asked.”

            I shut my eyes, relaxing the weight of my heavy head against his steady palm. I felt sobs forming in my chest, but I sucked them back down. When I opened my eyes again, Cicero nodded to me, and I nodded back, understanding that we both had been forgiven.

            Then, Cicero sighed. “What’s the Listener’s question?”

            I shook my head, sitting up straight again. “How much is too much?”

            Tears formed in his eyes, and I watched as he blinked them away. “I think this is it. This is too much.” He shook his head. “I did a lot of thinking about this, and I think it’s too much. I…I hate myself for the things I’ve done to you, Arabella. I hate myself for putting what I wanted first. I hate myself for shoving my way in to everything you had, for making it so you had nothing for yourself. I hate myself for causing you so much pain, and I hate myself for listening when the laughter, for hurting you just because I knew I could. I hate myself for loving you, and I hate myself for forcing you to love me.

            “And I hate you for the things you’ve done to me. I hate you for putting yourself last, for making it okay for me to do whatever I wanted. By Sithis, woman, I just told you I slept with several women other than you, and you just nodded and told me you understood. I hate you for keeping secrets from me, because you never tell me anything. I hate you for being weaker than me, for just soothing me after I hit you because you thought my madness justified it, that it made it okay for me to hit you. I hate you for loving me, Arabella, because you shouldn’t. I gave you no choice but to love me.”

            “That’s not true, Cicero. You didn’t force me to love you.” I told him, touching the side of his face, just barely. “I’ve always loved you.”

            “I know that.” he mumbled. “But we’re toxic together, Arabella. We hurt each other, no matter what we do. And it’s because we’re both…crazy. We’re both utterly mad, and it’s not healthy anymore. It’s not healthy for us to hate each other, and love each other, and hate each other, and love each other. Hate and love and hate and love, and I can’t bear it anymore.”

            I nodded. “How much is too much?”

            “This is.” Cicero said quietly. “This is too much.”

            “So, we’re done, then.” I whispered, shutting my eyes as he wrapped me in his arms. “It’s over.”

            “Yes.” He whispered back. “It’s over.”

            And it was, as I pressed my face into his shoulder and cried, grieving the loss of something that was both so beautiful and so ugly. Because the bad was bad, but the good was so good, and I knew that it was mad to think like that. But Cicero was right. We were both utterly mad, and that’s why we held each other as we broke each other’s hearts.

            And it was over, finally. It was over.

 

 

            “They should be back by now.” I said to Nazir as I paced the eating area. It had been far too long since Mareena and Nikulas left to complete the last of the contracts. The Thalmor Embassy wasn’t but a few hours travel from Dawnstar, a day at most, if they’d stopped and dawdled. But a week and a half was too long. I’d begun to worry after four days, but Cicero had preoccupied my thoughts, his return the only one that had concerned me.

            Now, though, I was shaking with worry. I knew it couldn’t be good, for them to be gone for so long, but I couldn’t rightfully sit by and leave them out there to fend for themselves. I had already packed a bag, but Cicero was the only one standing in my way.

            “You can’t go after them, Listener.” he said, taking the bag from me.

            I furrowed my brow. “Are you challenging the leader of the Dark Brotherhood?”

            “Yes.” he said simply. “But only because you going after them could cost you your life. And your life is, by extension, Mother’s. The Dark Brotherhood dies if you do.”

            “Then come with me.” I suggested, reaching for my pack, but he slipped it behind his back. “You would keep me safer than anyone else here.”

            “You’re not going.” Cicero said, his voice firm. “You’re staying here until things are safe.”

            Thomas rose from his seat. “I’ll go. I can…I can go the Embassy to find them.” He paused. “To find her.”

            “You’re not going either.” Nazir said, his voice deep and laced with concern. “You’re blinded by a school-girl crush on Mareena. You wouldn’t perform—”

            “They’re family.” Thomas growled. “We can’t rightfully leave our family out there to die.”

            “But we can.” Cicero said, his expression reflecting unwavering seriousness. “If the death of two means the perseverance of six, then they must die. We cannot risk all of our lives, the life of the Listener, because two recruits have not returned from contract.”

            “This is my fault.” I mumbled, slumping into the chair nearest to me, beside Babette. “I shouldn’t have allowed them to take a contract this high risk. I just…I thought it would be a grand challenge for them. But they’re too young. Too unseasoned.”

            “Don’t blame yourself, Listener.” Dala-grog said. “They knew the risks. Nazir informed them.”

            Nazir nodded. “They agreed to take the contracts. I gave them several opportunities to decline, and they accepted.”

            “They didn’t know any better!” I yelled. “The Listener, the Keeper, and the Speaker offer you a difficult contract, you accept it! You don’t turn away something like that.” I turned to Cicero. “It should have been you and me. We should be the ones—”

            “You don’t take contracts, Listener.” Cicero reminded me, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “And even if you did, I wouldn’t have allowed you to take a contract like this. It was too dangerous from jump. If the damned High King had done his own bidding—”

            “There’s no use blaming the High King.” Nazir said. “That’s like blaming the Night Mother for giving us contracts. If Mareena and Nikulas have failed this contract, they pay the price. And we’ll grieve their loss, but Cicero is right. We cannot stake the lives of two on the lives of six.”

            “Damnit, stop saying that!” I yelled, shaking my head. “They’re not pawns in the Dark Brotherhood chess game. We don’t make sacrifices. We defend our brothers and sisters, and they need us now.”

            “We protect our family unless it means endangering the life of the Listener.” Nazir mumbled, nodding to me when I whipped my head in his direction to challenge him.

            And I knew they were right. It wasn’t smart to go after them, but I couldn’t stop blaming myself. I shouldn’t have given them the contract. I shouldn’t have let them leave. I should have sent someone skilled with them.

            My thoughts were interrupted as the Black Door opened, and we all waited as the sound of crippled footsteps drew nearer to us. We were silent until we saw Nikulas, and Nikulas alone, stumble down the stairs to the eating area where we all sat in waiting for him. He tripped on the last two steps, falling forward down the stairs and hitting the floor with a thud.

            We all rushed toward him, Nazir, Cicero and Thomas working to lift him and move him to the table, where I went to work healing him. His arm was shattered, as well as several ribs, and his face gave away that he’d taken a severe beating.

            He cried as I popped his bones back into place. He screamed when I set his arm, when his joints snapped back together. He fell silent when I closed his open wounds, stopped the flow of blood from his body. Then, he looked at me, his eyes wide and revealing that he had seen death.

            “Where’s Mareena?” Thomas asked finally, his voice cracking as he said her name.

            Nikulas only looked at me though, his brow furrowed and his eyes reflecting the lives he’d taken, one in particular catching my attention. “She told.” he whispered, blood staining his teeth a faint orange.

            “Explain yourself.” Cicero demanded. “What does that mean?”

            “They found us.” Nikulas said softly. “The Thalmor found us and captured us, just before we could take Elenwen’s head. We’d killed Rulinfdil, and we were sneaking, and they found us.”

            “What happened when they found you?” Nazir asked.

            “They took us to the torture rooms, and they starved us and beat us. We didn’t tell, though. We didn’t tell them anything. You’re our family, and we swore to each other we would die before we let them know who we were, where to find you all. Gods damnit, we swore. She swore.”

            “What did she tell them?” I asked quietly, my hand against Nikulas’ face.

            He was in shock, his eyes wild but focused on me. “Your name. Cicero called you Arabella, all that time ago when you told Mareena about the other sanctuary. Is that your name?” When I nodded, he smiled the same orange smile, his teeth stained and his face bloody. “I think that’s a beautiful name. I always thought you were beautiful.”

            “What did she tell them?” Cicero repeated, shaking Nikulas to draw his attention back to the room.

            “They promised to let us free if we told. They promised…promised we wouldn’t die if we told. And they kept their promise. Mareena told them everything. She told them where the sanctuary was, where to find us. She gave them descriptions of what everyone looked like. She said the leader of our sanctuary had to die if the Dark Brotherhood were to be destroyed.” He looked at me again. “She told them you were the Listener. She said the Listener was a Breton woman with gray eyes, and that she couldn’t be left alive.

            “Gods, they let us free. We ran and ran, and we knew they were coming here, so Mareena wanted to go anywhere else. She told me she could get us to Cyrodiil, that she had family there. But she told. She betrayed the Dark Brotherhood.” He stared up at me, his eyes welling with tears. “I killed her. I killed Mareena because she betrayed you. She betrayed us all.”

            Cicero shook his head back and forth, trying to make sense of everything. “How long?”

            Nikulas choked on a sob. “It’s been a few days.”

            “No!” Cicero yelled. “How long until they get here? How long do we have?”

            Nikulas blinked, shaking his head. “We don’t have any time. They weren’t far behind me.”

            I stood, then, greeting Cicero’s stare. It was happening again. The sanctuary would fall, and there was no stopping it. “You all have to leave.” I told them. “You have to get out of here. Save yourselves.”

            “What about you?” Thomas mumbled, tears rolling down his face since he’d processed that Mareena was dead.

            “My job is to protect the Night Mother with my dying breath. I’ll do just that.”

            “They won’t stop looking until they find her crypt, Arabella.” Cicero said. “They’ll dig until they find you, and then they’ll kill you and desecrate the Night Mother.”

            “Cicero’s right.” Nazir said, looking around at everyone. “Our sole duty is to protect the Listener. If she lives, the Dark Brotherhood lives, and if we have to die to ensure that, we will. Is everyone in agreement?”

            Slowly but surely, everyone nodded, understanding that they would all die so I could live. The thought made my stomach turn, and I couldn’t stop myself from vomiting on the floor of the eating area. My life was worth six, and I hated myself for it.

            Nazir continued, ignoring my moment of utter weakness. “We station ourselves throughout the sanctuary, two of you guarding the Shrine of Sithis to make it look like she’s already escaped. They’ll break through it and find the ladder that leads out of here. It has to work.”

            “Where will you go?” Nikulas asked, his hand against my face.

            “She’ll go to the crypt.” Cicero said, nodding his head. “She will not fight. She will not help. She will hide.” He turned to me, his eyes boring into my soul. “You will hide until I come to get you.”

            “You’ll die fighting.” I whispered. “You’ll all die.”

            “I will not leave you alone, Arabella.” Cicero said, then he reassessed. “But if I have to, if I die, you have to promise me you’ll take Mother and leave. You’re small, but you’re strong. You’ll take Mother somewhere when it’s safe, right?”

            “I will.” I said. “I will.”

            The Black Door banged as something rammed into it, the sound of protest and the smell of smoke creeping into the eating area. We all stood silently, acknowledging that these were our final moments together in Dawnstar. And for a moment, it was good. We all accepted that this was what would happen, and we were okay.

            “Kill well, and often, family.” I mumbled, taking Nazir’s and Nikulas’ hand, who stood on either side of me. They all echoed the phrase, just before the Black Door was forced open and the sound of angry men came down the hall.

            The group dispersed, Thomas running up the stairs to hold off some of the Thalmor agents that had infiltrated our home. Cicero stepped up to me when it was just he and I, Babette shadowing behind me as she always did. He placed his hand against the side of my face, kissing my forehead before he held pulled me into his chest.

            “I _will_ come find you, Arabella.” he called to me over the yelling. “You can’t get rid of me, even if you wanted to.”

            “I don’t want to.” I said, laughing as I looked up at him. “Please, come find me.”

            He nodded, pointing toward the hall that led to the forge as he squinted through the smoke. “Go! Now!”

            I did, turning and staggering toward the hallway as I heard Thomas fall, and I watched as the Thalmor trickled in, their blue robes vibrant against the dark of our sanctuary. I watched as they filed into the eating area, charging at my brothers and sister with an unrelenting speed, unwilling to leave any of them alive.

            I watched as Dala-grog, old and feeble, spewed flames from his hands at several of the high elves who ran at him. Though two fell, one prevailed, emerging from the stream of flame and driving their blade through Dala-grog’s chest. He sputtered in death, gagging on his own blood and falling unconscious, descending to the Void with a smile on his face.

            The flames he’d ejected from his hands set fire to the table, to the bread and towels in Nazir’s kitchen, where he’d spent so many mornings cooking breakfast for us. The fire came with thick smoke, condensed in a finite area and circulating through the air to make it nearly impossible to breathe. I staggered back, knowing I had to move, but utterly unable to.

            Two Thalmor agents ran at Cicero, but the Keeper handled them with the skill I already knew he possessed. He ducked beneath the swing of one elf, dipping low to kick his leg out from underneath him and knock him to his feet. Cicero’s blade slipped from his hand, and he kicked the handled with his foot, spinning it just enough to set it at the right angle to stomp it into the elf’s chest. Then, he crouched to pull another dagger from his boot, then stood to catch the second Thalmor agent’s sword by the blade, laughing wildly when it severed the flesh of his hand, but yanking the blade from her and driving his own blade into her throat.

            I had to move, I knew that, but I couldn’t will my feet to do anything but stand steady. The cries of my family, now dying around me, was too distracting from the sound of my brain screaming for me to do as I was told.

Nazir had pulled his curved sword from his hip, and he lunged at the agent who charged him, driving his scimitar through the elf’s stomach and grunting as it made forceful contact. He withdrew, raising his leg to kick the agent to the ground and turning back to the room to find someone else to attack.

            The flames had caught the Black Hand banners that hung from the walls, engulfing the room in flames. The smoke was hard to see through, but I could make out a small Babette running toward me with blood on her face, having used her fangs to kill one Thalmor agent or more. She grabbed my hand, yanking me away from the chaos and guiding me toward the forge.

            I threw the door open, shutting it behind me, and though my heart screamed to wait six seconds for Cicero like I always did, I couldn’t. I grabbed Babette’s hand, pulling her toward the fireplace with the false back panel. I crouched down, shoving the panel aside and helping Babette inside. I heard the hurried footsteps rushing toward the forge, perfectly in rhythm with the screams of Nikulas as they trailed down the hall. My heart raced, pounding against my throat as I ducked into the dark opening.

            Just as I was about to shut the panel, the door flew open to expose that the entire sanctuary was in flames, the thick smoke puffing into the room and making Nazir’s silhouette barely visible. He ran toward me, smacking my hands away from the panel to shove it back into place.

            I held it open. “Get in, Nazir!” I yelled to him, my voice hoarse as I fought to be heard around the smoke.

            “No!” he cried. “Keep the Dark Brotherhood alive, Arabella! For all of us! Go!”

            I shook my head. “Where is Cicero?” I cried, trying to stop him from shoving my hands away from the panel.

            “Go, Arabella!” Nazir screamed, pounding on the door behind him gaining his attention. When I still refused, he shook his head. “I’m sorry!” he cried to me, then shoved my chest forcefully, sending me falling down the long descent to the hall below.

            I hit my head when I landed, my sight going dark and my ears ringing. Just beyond, though, I could hear the panel being closed and sealed, making sure no one could get in or out. Inside, I screamed and screamed, knowing Cicero was on the other side and that he couldn’t get in. He had installed that seal himself, ensuring that once it was in place, you would never be able to unseal it from either side.

            I heard Babette somewhere beyond me, crying my name and patting my face, but I was in the dark. It was deep and blue, the unconsciousness I swam in. I hovered there, somewhere between here and there as I listened to the Nazir’s muffled cries, indicating that he died defending the panel.

            I didn’t care what happened anymore. I could die and descend to the Void, because I didn’t care to live anymore. I had no interest in it, a life where one sanctuary burned so I would die and the other burned so I could live. I felt Babette trying to pull me, to tug me toward the Night Mother’s crypt down the hall, but she was too small.

            I heard Cicero’s voice, then, speaking to me from somewhere in the blue. I was warm, though; warm and alone and safe in the blue, and I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to linger, to remain in the safety where it didn’t feel like smoke and pain and death.

            A sharp slap across my face drew me back to consciousness, my eyes opening abruptly for a moment to meet Cicero’s gaze. He stared down at me, his face covered in ash and blood, his lip busted and his eye black, but he was here. I wanted to reach for him, but the blue took me again, capturing me and sending me back to unconsciousness.

            “Damnit.” Cicero muttered. I felt his hands under my armpits, dragging me down the hall toward the door at the end of the hall, which he unlocked and dragged me into. When he tossed me onto the floor inside, he slapped me again, sending me bolting upright and into the world again.

            I blinked, watching as Cicero sealed the door to the crypt. I looked around, trying to focus my vision on something unmoving, but the room spun. I reached up to touch the blood trickling from the back of my head, and I lifted my hand to heal the wound beneath my hair. Immediately, the pulsating and spinning ceased, and I could think clearly.

            I saw Babette beside me, standing in the corner and weeping softly. I felt my brow furrow, wondering how we’d all gotten all the way down the long ladder that descended to the crypt. I’d been pushed, Babette had climbed, but how did Cicero get in past the seal?

            He had sealed it, I thought. But how much time passed? How long did I lay unconscious before he made it down the ladder? I dragged myself to stand as Cicero twisted the last of the bolts, securing that we were absolutely locked in the Night Mother’s crypt.

            I staggered toward the Night Mother’s coffin, falling to my knees before her and placing both of my hands on the doors of her iron tomb.

            “Tell me what to do, Mother.” I cried around the sobs in my chest. “Tell me how to make this right. Tell me something to give them hope, to give them the strength to carry on.”

            There was only silence. The Night Mother said nothing as I cried before her, something I’d never experienced before. I sobbed violently, harshly, uncontrollably as I begged for her to say something, anything, but she didn’t speak.

            I dropped to the ground entirely, curling into a ball before her coffin. I didn’t move until Cicero scooped me off of the ground and carried me toward the back of the room. I clung to him, gripping his coat in my fists as I cried into his chest.

            He lowered himself to sit on the ground, clutching me against him from where I sat between his legs. Babette joined our huddle, sitting before me and resting her head against my shoulder, shutting her red eyes to rest and holding my hand to comfort me.

            And that’s how we stayed. I clung to Cicero, shaking and crying because I knew this was my fault, for sending them to the embassy, for recruiting them in the first place, for not dying in Solitude like I was supposed to, for climbing into the coffin at Astrid’s request, for killing Grelod the Kind.

            Cicero stared past me, staring vacantly somewhere between the top of Mother’s coffin and the ceiling, his face expressionless as he held me. He was alone with his own thoughts, the things that he’d seen all his own. His fourth sanctuary fallen, his fourth survival.

            Babette squeezed my hand as my cries became quieter and quieter. As the crypt grew quieter and quieter. As the world above us became quieter and quieter.

            And it was over, finally. It was over.

            And it was my fault.

            Mine.


	29. A Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Companions add a new member to the Circle. Karalissa travels to Riften to speak with Marcurio when someone hires the Companions to whoop his fanny. Later, Farkas causes a scene.
> 
> POV: Karalissa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi pals!!!  
> Welcome to the end of the fic! Sad to say that the next chapter is the last one. This is the end of the story, and Cass' final chapter will serve as an epilogue.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this! (especially you, Lex73, you cute little Farkela shipper)

            I smiled as I sat down at the table, looking around at my favorite people in the world. “Thank you all for coming, and for showing up on time.” I shot Aela a playful glance, and she smirked. She was notorious for being late to Circle meetings, but she’d been exactly on time today. “I have some business that needs to be discussed, but I’ll take reports first.”

            Vilkas started. “Training is going well, given the whelps I have to work with.” He scowled, shaking his head. “Erik continues to annoy me, but we’ll…get past that.”

            “He’s nice.” Farkas offered, popping a piece of bread into his mouth. He continued to speak as he chewed. “He’ll be a good Companion. He just needs to practice.”

            Aela snorted, kicking her feet up on the table. “Farm boy turned warrior.” She shook her head. “Never a good start to a story.”

            I cocked my head to the side. “Didn’t your father raise you on a farm?”

            “That’s different.” Aela said, rolling her eyes. “I was raised on a farm to be a _warrior_. Not a farm boy. Besides, my mother was a Companion.”

            “My little farm girl.” Farkas laughed, flicking a piece of bread at Aela from across the table.

She caught it in her mouth, giving him a wink as she chewed. “Yee-haw.”

            “As I was saying,” Vilkas continued, irritated that he’d been interrupted. “He needs a lot of work. I made the executive decision to have him shadow Thorald once Torvar’s done with him. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll give him to Ralof.”

            Aela’s hand shot up, waving it excitedly. “Speaking of Ralof, I have news! Pick me, Lissa. Let me go next.”

            “Who said I was done?” Vilkas grumbled.

            Aela ignored him, setting her feet on the floor and leaning forward. “Um, Ralof and Njada are getting married on Fridas.”

            “What?” Farkas and I said in unison. Vilkas jerked his head back in surprise.

            “Uh, yep.” Aela said, kicking her legs back up and folding her arms behind her head. “Njada told Ria, who told Athis, who told Avulstein, who told Thorald, who told Eorlund, who told Codus, who told me. Just happened last night.”

            “True Nords, both of them.” Vilkas said with a nod. “Good for them.”

            I kicked my feet excitedly. “Oh my gods, we have to get them a wedding present. That’s not awkward, right Villy? It’s not weird, is it?”

            “For the Harbinger to give a Companion a wedding gift?” Vilkas snorted humorlessly. “No, Kara. That’s not weird.”

            Aela snickered. “No, but it’s weird for Vilkas’ current lover to give his ex-lover a wedding gift.”

            “Njada was not my lover.” Vilkas grumbled. “We kissed one time.”

            “And then a hundred more times.” Farkas laughed.

            Vilkas set his jaw in frustration. “Over the course of four days. _Seven_ years ago.”

            Aela smacked her hands on the tabletop. “Are you trying to say that that’s reason enough to leave Lissa?” She pointed at me. “Look at that face. You’ve crushed her.”

            Vilkas dropped his jaw. “What the hell? I didn’t even say—”

            Farkas reached over to me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and squeezing me against his chest. “It’s okay, Lissa. Farkas has got you. Don’t cry.”

            “Happy now, Vilkas?” Aela said, shaking her head. “She’ll never be the same.” Playing along, I fake sobbed into Farkas’ shoulder.

            Farkas put his hand against the side of my face. “I’ll marry you, Lissa. We’ll raise that baby together, and Vilkas can piss off.”

            “Oh, Farkas. How kind and thoughtful.” I said, glancing at Vilkas’ very irritated face. “A true gentleman.”

            Aela stomped her feet on the ground. “Great! Thanks a lot, Vilkas!” She stood from her chair, outstretching her arms in defeat. “Now I have to find another man. Where’s Cassius? I’m destroying something Lissa loves, now.”

            “You’d better not touch my brother, Aela!” I called, slamming my fist on the table. “I won’t stand for this injustice!” I glared at Vilkas, struggling to suppress a smile. “Look at the scene you’ve caused, Vilkas. Here we are trying to take care of business, and you just have to disrupt the whole thing.”

            Vilkas stared at the ceiling, his arms folded across his chest. “Just one serious meeting. That’s all I’m asking for.”

            The three of us laughed, returning to our seats. Aela and Farkas high-fived each other, snickering quietly as the room settled.

            “Alright, alright.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Getting back on track, have you all given thought to last week’s discussion?”

            Aela raised her eyebrows. “I’m being one hundred percent serious, right now.”

            Farkas pointed at her. “That’s rare. Everyone listen.”

            “I’m all for it. I don’t think anyone is more deserving than he is, and he’s proved himself an asset in more ways than one.” Aela said, nodding to me. “I support your decision fully.”

            “Thank you.” I said with a smile, then turned to the twins. “Boys?”

            Farkas nodded. “He’ll be great. He’ll make you proud. Prouder than he already does.”

            “I agree.” I nodded to him, knowing that nothing was more factual. Finally, I looked at my husband. “Vilkas?”

            He released a long sigh. “I don’t like your plan. For this trip to Riften.”

            “You’re only saying that because you’re not going.” I noted, rolling my eyes.

            “And why shouldn’t I?” Vilkas inquired, shaking his head. “My pregnant wife, who is damned near about to be _not_ pregnant anymore, wants to travel to Riften for the weekend without me.” He raised his hands in confusion. “What would happen if you had the baby?”

            I snorted, shaking my head. “I won’t have the baby without you, Vilkas.”

            “You say that like you can control it.” Vilkas grumbled. “I don’t want you to travel across Skyrim this close to having the baby.”

            “Riften is not across Skyrim, Vilkas. It’s two hours away.”

            He grunted. “Well, have you made a plan of action for if you have to deliver our child on the side of the road?”

            “I won’t deliver our child on the side of the road.” I said, shrugging at Vilkas.

            “You can’t control birth, Kara.”

            “Uh, yes I can.” I said, furrowing my brow at him. “If I had to put up with the vomiting, the crying, the eating of copious amounts of food I don’t like, the baggy sweaters, the large weight on the front of my body, and the fact that I haven’t been able to fire an arrow in almost eight months, then I get to decide when to give birth.”

            Vilkas laughed loudly. “You don’t control this.”

            “Are you saying I can’t control myself?” I asked, raising my eyebrows to urge him to continue.

            “This got awkward so fast.” Aela mumbled, staring back and forth between me and Vilkas.

            “All I’m saying is you can’t know when you’re going to deliver our baby.”

            “Yes, I can.” I said with a laugh. “I’ll just know, and if I happen to know on the trip, I’ll come home.”

            “What, you’re just going to tell our baby not to be born until you get back to Whiterun?” Vilkas was smiling now too, more humored by the idea than I would have liked him to be.

            “Yes. And he’ll listen to me, because I’m in charge.”

            Vilkas’ eyes widened, his smile fading for a moment and then reforming. “He?”

            I kind of shrunk back in my seat, realizing I’d just assumed our child’s gender. “I mean, I wouldn’t know. It just…feels like a boy.”

            Vilkas nodded. “A son?” He reached for my hand across the table. “We’ll have a son.”

            “And just when I thought it couldn’t get any _more_ awkward.” Aela mumbled, resting her head against the back of her chair.

            Farkas groaned, shaking his head. “So you believe her when she says she thinks it’s a boy, but you don’t believe that she can chose when to have the baby.”

            Vilkas sighed. “Well, maybe you can, Kara. But that doesn’t mean I want you to go without me.”

            “But I won’t be alone.” I said as Vilkas ran his gloved thumb over my knuckles. “And you know exactly why you can’t go.”

            “I would behave myself.” Vilkas mumbled.

            I snorted. “Last time you saw him, you threatened to cut off his—”

            “And the offer still stands.” Vilkas interrupted. “Make sure the whelp knows that.”

            “Fine.” I said, shaking my head.

            Vilkas released a long sigh. “Aside from the trip, I support the promotion. He deserves it.”

            I smiled, genuinely pleased that we all saw eye-to-eye on this, which was something we rarely experienced. “Perfect. And since we’re all in agreement, I say we do this now, before the trip.”

            Farkas smiled. “I’ll go get him.” He stood, then, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

            Aela straightened herself out, setting her feet on the floor and trying to look serious. Vilkas stood and moved across the room to pull another chair up to the table, setting it directly across from me and rearranging the other chairs, one of which Aela never got up from, to sit in a semicircle facing the newest chair. He kissed my cheek as he sat in his new seat beside me.

            Within a few minutes, Farkas returned, holding the door open for Codus as he trailed behind. He looked so different from the first time he walked into this room. He’d been so scrawny and shy, eager to fight and pleased to even be acknowledged by other Companions. Now, he was faintly muscled and wore a smile on his happy face, genuinely pleased to be asked to participate in something.

            When he saw the intimidating chair set-up, though, his smile faded, being replaced with confusion. I smiled at him reassuringly, though. “You’re not in trouble.” I gestured toward the seat across from us. “Please, sit.”

            Codus obeyed, smiling curiously at all of us. Farkas, too, plopped down in the seat beside his brother. Codus made himself comfortable, then folded his hands on the table top. “Somethin’ serious?” he asked, clearing his throat.

            “It could be.” Aela said, nodding to him. “We would like your opinion in this matter.”

            Codus nodded hesitantly. “Of course.”

            Vilkas grunted. “The Harbinger has brought a certain matter to our attention that we feel needs to be addressed.” Codus shifted, concerned at the direction this topic was going in. “Before Karalissa became Harbinger, there were six members of the Circle. Kodlak was our Harbinger, Skjor and I trained whelps, and Farkas, Aela, and Karalissa dealt out jobs to Companions.”

            Aela sighed. “Those positions didn’t exactly…coincide, because we lost both Skjor and Kodlak nearly consecutively with the time Lissa became a member of the Circle, let alone the Harbinger. We still haven’t really gotten our footing back, to balance the workload between the four of us.”

            “Aela and I handle all of the jobs.” Farkas explained. “Vilkas does training all by himself, and there are twice as many whelps as he shared with Skjor. And Lissa is always drowning in the paper behind the Companions.”

            “There’s a lot that goes into the organization of it all.” I added. “Collecting payments, distributing jobs between Aela and Farkas, commuting back and forth between here and Dragonsreach four or five times a day to deliver messages and get work approved by Jarl Vignar. It’s a lot to split between the four of us.”

            “So, Torvar was promoted to ‘Recruitment Advisor’.” Aela said, and though she was trying to behave professionally, I knew she was rolling her eyes internally. “He was given the task of training just the newest recruits before they moved on to Vilkas.”

            “And he does a fine job at that.” Vilkas said, nodding in approval. “He’s an asset to the Companions, and he takes pride in his work.”

            “However,” I said, nodding to Codus. “We feel that we need another member of the Circle. Someone trustworthy and loyal, and honorable warrior through and through, and we wanted to know what you think about who we’ve chosen.”

            Codus nodded. “Well, I think Torvar is a good choice. He certainly helped me when I joined; made it easier to work with Vilkas. He’ll bring honor to all of you.”

            I smirked. “Actually, Codus, we wanted to promote you.”

            He jerked his head back. “Me? To the Circle?”

            “Yes.” Aela said, smiling at Codus.

            His face lit up entirely, more than I’d ever seen. “I’m honored, truly. I—I don’t even know what to say.”

            “Your responsibilities would be spread across the board.” I explained. “I would give you jobs to deal out to Companions, which will take some of the load off of Vilkas when Farkas begins to help with training. And you’ve been helping me with my end of the work for years, Codus. It’s time you get recognized for that, because I wouldn’t survive without you.”

            “Well, I don’t help that much.” Codus began, trying to be humble.

            I shook my head. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re more than a Companion to us, Codus. You’re a friend, a dear friend, and we want you to join the Circle because we think you deserve it more than anyone else here.”

            And as the rest of the Circle nodded in agreement, Codus beamed, laughing to himself. “I’d love to be a member of the Circle, Harbinger. Thank you. All of you.”

            “It shall be so.” Aela, Farkas, and Vilkas said in unison.

            “Perfect. Welcome to our mortal foil.” I said, standing from the table and shaking his hand. He shook the hands of everyone else at the table, too. When he sat back down, I nodded to him again. “There’s another matter I’d like to discuss with you, now that we’ve dealt with this part of our meeting.”

            “Of course, Harbinger.”

            I smiled. “Codus, you’ve called me ‘Harbinger’ since the day we met. You’re my friend and my equal. Call me Karalissa, or Lissa, or something. You don’t have to be so formal all the time.”

            Codus smiled even wider. “Okay, I will.”

            “I have a personal matter that I’d like your assistance with. We have a hired muscle job in Riften, and the target is someone I know.”

            Aela leaned forward, shielding the side of her mouth closest to me with her hand, as if it would keep me from hearing her words. “It’s her former lover.”

            I rolled my eyes, knowing that Aela was teasing because the official business had concluded. “Marcurio was not my…lover.”

            Aela nodded to me, then shook her head at Codus to convey that I was lying. “She left him and joined the Companions, then he came all the way here and walked right up to _Vilkas_ and asked where to find his Karalissa.” She snickered. “Should have seen the look on old grumpy’s face.”

            Vilkas scowled. “He didn’t ask, he demanded. Piss drunk and wearing a dress, and said she was the love of his life and he needed to speak with her, and if I stood in his way, he’d roast me in a…what was it?”

            “Gout of arcane fire.” I said with a nod.

            Vilkas rolled his eyes, his jaw set in irritation. “Pompous son of a—”

            “And this is why Vilkas isn’t going.” I said matter-of-factly. “So, I’d like for you to come with me to Riften, because instead of beating Marcurio up for whatever he did to piss someone off, I’ll just talk to him.”

            “Talk to him, Kara.” Vilkas grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “Talk to him so he can fall in love with you again and follow you back to Whiterun.”

            I turned to Vilkas. “Actually, I planned to run off with him and get married in secret. We’ll travel Skyrim together, see beautiful things, meet interesting people.”

            “Oh, of course.” Vilkas said, a grin creeping up on him. “Have a courier deliver my child to me, then. I expect you won’t send me a wedding invitation, so I’ll have to just wait for my child to arrive.”

            “Who says you get to take my child?” I asked, mocking a challenging look. “Maybe I’ll just stop by the Bard’s College. They take excellent care of children.”

            “Oh, you’re hilarious.” Vilkas snorted. “Who says _you_ get to take _my_ child? You’re leaving me, don’t I at least get to keep a piece of you?”

            “Nope.” I said, shrugging. “Marcurio will raise my child. We’ll send you letters every four years with a doodle of what the child looks like, but that’s it.”

            “Well, you’d better have Marcurio draw it, because you can’t draw for shit.” Vilkas added, nudging me playfully.

            Aela gestured to us, staring at Codus. “Welcome to my life.”

            Codus shrugged. “I didn’t know Vilkas had emotions, other than anger.” He shrugged. “I thought he was just…mean. No offense, or anything.”

            Farkas and Aela snickered. Vilkas furrowed his brow, his small smile fading. “Does everyone think I’m mean?”

            Aela nodded. “What, did you think you think you were nice?”

            “You’re very nice, Villy.” I said to my husband, patting his shoulder.

            Farkas snorted. “Yeah, to _you_ , Lissa.”

            Vilkas grumbled. “And I’m not nice to you, brother?”

            “I mean…” Farkas began, trailing off as he saw Vilkas’ glare and laughing. “See, look at that! You’re mean!” Vilkas realized that he was glaring, and he laughed along with his brother, their smiles identical, right down to the dimples.

            Aela sighed, shaking her head. “Welcome to the Circle, Codus. Vilkas is mean, Farkas is drunk most of the time, Lissa talks too much, and I’m the only one who does any work.”

            Farkas laughed loudly at that. “Aela, of all of us, you do all of those things the most. You’re mean too, and you’re always drunk. And you talk a lot.”

            “Hey, now.” Aela said, pointing at Farkas. “You’d better watch yourself, Farkas. I may leave you.”

            “Oh, right.” Farkas snorted, rolling his eyes. “It was nice knowing you.”

            I shook my head at Codus. “I swear to the gods, we’re professional most of the time.”

            “I believe you.” Codus said with a laugh. He sighed then, his smile never faltering. “I’d be happy to go to Riften with you and talk to your former lover. What are friends for, anyway?”

            I glanced at the group around me, who still continued to mess with each other beyond our conversation. I shook my head again, smiling at the newest member of the Circle. “Not much.”

 

 

            I stood before the door of the Bee and Barb, staring up at the exterior walls in admiration. It had been so long since I stood here for the first time, gazing at the building as I did now, wondering how the hell I was going to pay for anything. Even though I’d been in charge of carrying all of the money when I’d lived in the woods with Cass, I’d lost it in the ambush when we’d been separated.

            I smiled to myself, remembering the first conversation I’d had with Talen-Jei. _“It’s a long and complicated story, sir, and I won’t burden you with the details. I was hoping that I could work in exchange for rent for a little while, just until I can earn enough coin to pay you back. I—I’ll go out hunting early tomorrow morning and sell the pelts, and I’ll give you the coin. I just—”_

            _“Where have you been living?”_ he asked me, his brow arches furrowed in concern.

            I cleared my throat. _“M-My brother and I have been living in the woods for about a year.”_

            Talen-Jei had nodded, pursing his lips. _“And does your brother need a room, too?”_ It was such a subtle and gentle way of asking, but he didn’t really need an answer. So when I shook my head, tears forming in my eyes that I struggled to blink away, Talen-Jei had sighed, setting his broom against the wall, then standing before me and crossing his arms. _“You hunt?”_ I had nodded. _“You can have the first two weeks free of rent to spend time getting yourself acquainted to Riften. After that, I’ll cut you a deal on rent. If you bring me the pelts, so I can make sleeping furs for the rooms, you’ll pay forty-nine septims a week. Seven a day.”_

            I had blinked at him, not understanding how he could be so kind to someone he didn’t even know. _“Are…are you sure?”_

            Talen-Jei had nodded. _“After two months, we’ll talk. If you’ve gotten back on your feet, we’ll discuss rent again. But until then, that’s the deal.”_ He’d reached behind the counter, nudging the leg of the Argonian woman to reach past her. She’d smiled at me sympathetically, and in that span of just a few seconds, I realized that they were the kindest people I’d ever met.

            He extended a key to me, placing it in my open palm and pointing toward the stairs. _“Room four. It’s yours.”_ I’d stood still, unsure if he was being serious or not. Finally, he smiled, nudging me toward the stairs. _“Go on.”_

            “Karalissa?” Codus said beside me, drawing my attention back to the present.

            I turned to him, absorbing his smile and his patience and appreciating it entirely. We’d spent a lot of time talking on our way to Riften, about our lives and our stories, the things that made us the way we were. Riften was one of those things, for me, and I very rarely talked about my time here, simply because it seemed so ancient, if I handled it too often it would become something it wasn’t.

            “Sorry, Codus.” I said, shaking my head as I turned back to the building. “It’s been…I haven't been here since I was a lot younger than I am now.”

            “It’s an important place for you.” he said, shrugging to me. “And the talk with this man, I think that will be important for you too. I’m going to look around for a little while. I’ll meet you back here later.”

            “Are you sure?” I asked. “I don’t want you to feel like I only brought you because I couldn’t bring Vilkas. I wanted you to come along.”

            “And I appreciate that.” Codus said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “But this is something you need to do on your own first, and I understand that.”

            I smiled at him, nodding in agreement. “I won’t be more than an hour.”

            “I’ll see you then.” He left, then, wandering off into the marketplace to find something to occupy his time.

            I turned back to the Bee and Barb, taking a breath before I pushed the door open. Inside, nothing had changed. The walls were still a dark wood, the tables and chairs were still in the exact spots they had been before. Even the smell was the same, the scent of liquor and bread looming in the air, urging the waves of nostalgia to lap at my heart and threaten to break me.

            Even still, I looked around the room for a familiar face, and I found Keerava’s. She took a moment to register my face, then she smiled, lifting her hand in a small wave. I waved back, then turned to the corner of the room near the other door, a familiar man sitting on the same bench he always sat, a mug of something in one hand and map in the other.

            I approached him slowly, standing before him for just a moment before I sat beside him. He looked up at me, his brow furrowed in irritation for just a moment before he choked on the liquor in his mouth, accidentally spitting a little out. I watched him with raised eyebrows as it trickled down his chin and onto his robes, realizing it wasn’t liquor, as I’d expected it to be, but instead it was water.

            He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, watching me with confusion in his dark eyes. “Karalissa?”

            “Hi, Marc.” I said simply, pulling a handkerchief from my pack and offering it to him. He nodded to me as he took it, wiping his mouth and tucking it into his pocket.

            “What…” he trailed off, shaking his head as he set the map aside. “What are you doing here?”

            I smirked, leaning back against the wall behind me to rest my head. “I came to talk to you, actually.”

            “ _Me_?”

            I couldn’t contain a laugh. “Well, you _are_ Marcurio, right? Unless my memory is a bit warped.”

            He blinked at me, utterly confused for just a moment before he laughed. He looked at me, taking in my appearance and his eyes catching my wedding band, suspended from the necklace around my neck. “You’re married.”

            “Yes.” I said with a nod, then placed my hand on my very large stomach. “A bit more than married, I’m sure you realized.”

            “I did.” Marc mumbled, smirking at me. “Congratulations. What was his name again?”

            “Vilkas.” I said with a laugh. “His name is Vilkas.”

            “That’s right.” he said, clearing his throat. “Other than the husband and the…baby…how have you been? It’s, uh, it’s been a while.”

            I smiled, shaking my head. “I’ve been well. The Companions are thriving, currently, so that’s taking up the majority of my time.” I nodded to him. “And how have you been?”

            He snorted, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall next to me. “Oh, you know me. I do the same thing I’ve always done. Run jobs, screw around with the boys, roast my enemies alive.”

            “In a gout of arcane fire, if I remember correctly.”

            Marc laughed. “You do. That’s right.” He cleared his throat, scratching the little patch of hair below his lip with his index finger. “Karalissa, I know you probably came here for a reason, but I want to apologize, for several things.”

            “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Marc.” I assured him. “It was a long time ago.”

            “I do, though. I want to apologize, first, for when I came to Whiterun. I don’t know where my mind was, and I know now that I had no business to track you down and disrupt your life. I was just…I don’t know, I was bitter about the way we ended things, and I wanted closure.”

            I nodded. “I know that. And I apologize for the things Vilkas probably said. He’s…grumpy.”

            Marc laughed. “He actually didn’t say anything. It was me with the mouth.” He sighed. “More than that, though, I want to apologize for…that trip we took. I didn’t mean what I said, Karalissa.”

            My smile faded as I thought about the reason I’d ended whatever it was Marc and I had going on between us. It was so long ago, another ancient memory that I rarely spent a moment on.

 

            Talen-Jei had sent us on a run to Falkreath to pick up a package for him, and we’d stopped to camp in the woods on our way back to Riften, after obtaining the package and traveling nearly halfway home. Marc was shivering near the fireside, his Imperial blood rendering him helpless in the cold.

            “I don’t understand you Nords.” he grumbled, watching as I set out my bedroll on the other side of the fire. “It’s freezing out here, and your arms aren’t even covered.”

            I had smirked, even though my teeth chattered and my hands shook because I was just as cold as he was. “It’s not _all_ Nords, Marc. I just didn’t pack for the cold.”

            Marc reached into his pack, pulling out a long sleeved sweater and tossing it to me. I’d smiled my thanks, tugging the sweater over my head, folding my arms across my chest to try to stop my shaking.

            I’d walked to sit beside him after that, taking the seat to his right and crossing my legs. The ground was cold too, but I was usually warm enough if my arms were covered. Leather armor had always left my legs exposed, making it easier for me to move but more difficult to combat the cold of Skyrim, but as long as I had sleeves, I was okay.

            “And here I thought you were the queen of organization.” Marcurio said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer to him. “You probably planned it like this, so you could be cold and have to cuddle up to me.”

            I had snorted. “Oh, right. I wanted my face pressed into your smelly armpit.” I shrugged his arm away playfully, but I rested my head against his shoulder, exhausted from our travel. “Every girl’s dream: a sweaty Imperial who smells like body odor.”

            Marc had laughed, shaking his head as he rested his hand on top of my leg. “You’re hilarious, Karl.”

            My back stiffened at the nickname. I jerked away from him involuntarily, scooting several inches away from him and glaring at his confused face. “Don’t call me that, Marc. Please, don’t call me that.”

            He shook his head, confused by my reaction and my request. “I’m sorry, Karalissa. I was just…I don’t know, it’s just a nickname.”

            I stared out at the woods around us, my heart pulsating quickly in anger as I thought about my happy months in the woods before I came to Riften. It had been the happiest time of my life, the months I lived free of Ma and Viarmo with no one but my brother to keep me company. He had always been my closest friend, Cassius, the one person in the world I looked up to with eyes of admiration, craving his wisdom and his humor and his arrogant remarks to keep me grounded.

            It had been a long seven months without my brother, and though I never dreamed, I was certain that if I did, I would have had dreams of Helgen. I clenched my jaw, remembering the burnt corpses I’d had to touch, the unidentifiable faces of men I’d never seen before that I had to simply toss aside as I searched for my brother’s body. I shivered, the memory of the burnt flesh flaking away when I touched the bodies plaguing me suddenly. I had made a pointed effort to stop myself from thinking about Helgen, from thinking about Cassius, but it was hard not to think of him in the woods, where we’d spent so many months in our elements, the one place we felt the happiest.

            Cassius had been the one to teach me to use a bow. He’d taught himself, and he’d quickly become a master because he was just meant to be a warrior. He’d spent so long training, skipping classes at the Bard’s College to make friends with the Solitude guards, who were humored by my brother’s pompous attitude and fond of him in general, and he convinced them to teach him the basics. Over time, he could hit a target dead-center without even trying, or looking really, and he’d taught me everything I knew because he wanted me to be able to defend myself. Cassius had been given no choice but to teach me the things I needed to be taught, simply because our father was dead and our mother didn’t seem to care much about us anymore, Viarmo was her eternal priority and center of her world.

I owed everything I knew to Cassius, everything I was and everything I wanted to be was because he raised me to be a warrior. Even if Ma raised us when we were younger, I was ten when she met Viarmo, and though I had really liked him, he took up all of her time. Cassius, at fifteen, watched me because Ma didn’t come home some nights when she stayed at the Bard’s College with Viarmo. At ten years old, there was so much I didn’t know, so much I had to learn about life and the world around me, which I didn’t know then was much bigger than Solitude, and Cassius had been the one to teach me everything.

            So when I was almost seventeen, and Cassius had begun to notice the bruises Viarmo left on both Ma and me, he taught me how to fire a bow. He never asked where the bruises came from or why I didn’t say anything about them, he just told me I had to learn to defend myself. I wasn’t nearly as good as him, of course, but I’d been good enough to take care of myself when we fled from Solitude to make a life of our own. He even gave me his bow to keep for my own, which he had convinced a guard to give to him when he began to train. He had always taken care of me, put me first because he cared more about my well-being than his.

            And it was for that very reason that he told me to run when the Imperials ambushed the Stormcloak camp, which Cassius and I had wandered into because he had always wanted to be a soldier. I had always done whatever Cassius told me to do, so I did run. But I followed the wagon on foot, not nearly fast enough to keep up, but fast enough to arrive at Helgen too late to save him.

            I thought about my brother often. He was in my thoughts every single day, and it broke my heart to think about him. And because it hurt so much to let my thoughts wander, I tried not to think at all. I had busied myself hunting for Talen-Jei and running errands for people in the Bee and Barb, and when that couldn’t keep me occupied enough, I’d turned to Marc, who was willing to spend every free moment he had with me. I read to him, I traveled with him, I sat quietly by and listened in on the conversations he would carry with his other Imperial friends; but even that wasn’t enough anymore.

            Marcurio wiped a tear away from my cheek as it rolled away from my eye, and I didn’t realize until that moment that I was crying. Suddenly, embarrassed, I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “Sorry.” I mumbled, laughing at myself for showing weakness.

            He wiped another tear away with his thumb, following behind with a kiss, which he placed in the same spot the tear had been. He didn’t say anything about my tears, probably because he wasn’t sure how to respond to it. I hadn’t told him about my brother; I hadn’t told anyone, for that matter. I acted like myself, happy and bouncy and talkative, and he was more than likely confused to see me upset.

            He cleared his throat, his brow furrowed because he didn’t like to be confused, and he was. “Tell me what it is, Karalissa.” he demanded more than he asked, feeling useless without understanding. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need.”

            I shook my head. “I didn’t mean to react like that, Marc. I’m sorry.” I blinked several times, trying to gather myself. “I just…I don’t like to think about it.”

            Interpreting that as my need for a distraction, Marcurio placed his hand against the side of my face, turning my head to face him so he could kiss me. I tried to kiss him back, tried to shut my eyes and feel loved, but I couldn’t. I pushed him away from me, as gently as I could manage. He stared at me, wildly confused and honestly rather irritated.

            “I’m—I’m sorry, Marc. I just…” I pursed my lips. “There’s a lot I want to say, and I just can’t make myself say it out loud. Saying it makes it real, and I don’t want it to be real.” And that was true. I wanted to talk about Cassius, about our life together and his sudden death, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it, because saying it was accepting it. And I couldn’t accept it, because he’d raised me not to settle for something that was anything less than what I wanted. And all I wanted was to have my brother back.

            “You sound crazy, Karalissa.” Marcurio finally said, shaking his head at me. “You talk in circles when I ask you what’s wrong, because there obviously _is_ something wrong. Why won’t you talk to me?”

            “Because I can’t say it, Marc. If I say it, then it’s official. If I say it out loud, there’s no hope.” I pushed my hair away from my face, growing irritated with myself. “I can’t say it, because that’s giving up hope.”

            “Hope for what?” Marc demanded, his hand on my arm, trying to pull me back to him.

            I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about it, Marc.”

            “At least give me something to understand, Karalissa. I can’t stand not knowing.”

            I blinked at him, furrowing my brow as I spoke. “I was separated from my brother, and I don’t like to think about it.”

            Marcurio jerked his head back. “Who gives a shit, Karalissa? He’s probably fine. It doesn’t matter.” My heart dropped as he said it, but I tried to ignore it. Marc was my friend. He swore he cared about me, and he wouldn’t say something like that unless he cared. But Marc wanted to be more than just a friend, too. He wanted a lot from me, and I’d never experienced love before. I’d never been in love, never returned any of the feelings the boys from Solitude had, and I was certain that I didn’t love Marc the way he loved me. But he was my only friend, and telling him I didn’t want to be with him meant losing him as a friend, and I didn’t want to be alone anymore.

            “You don’t mean that.” I mumbled, trying to rationalize his words. “It does matter.”

            “It doesn’t!” he shouted. “You can’t use that as an excuse to shut me out. You can’t force people away because you don’t want to talk about something that’s unimportant.”

            The flesh of my face grew hot, burning as I grew angry. “My brother was very important.”

            Marc raised outstretched his arms in confusion. “Why are you lingering on people who don’t matter anymore? The past is the past, Karalissa, and I’m here now. Why won’t you let me be important?”

            I shook my head, trying not to hear the words he was saying. “I don’t want to be alone anymore, and if I say it, I’m alone.” I felt myself crying again, sobs forming in my heavy lungs. “I can’t make it without him. I know I can’t. I can’t be alone, I won’t survive.”

            Marcurio pulled me toward him, pressing his mouth against mine again. It was so aggressive, his need to distract me and make me stop crying, and it made my skin crawl. I shoved him away from me. “How can you be so emotionless, Marc?”

            “Because I just don’t care about your brother, Karalissa.” he said, growing frustrated as he tried to kiss me again. “I don’t care about things that hurt, and if you do, you’re stupid.”

            “Stupid?” I asked, my tone of voice rising in disbelief. “I’m stupid for missing my brother?”

            “Yes!” Marcurio yelled. “You’re stupid for trying to push everyone away and linger on someone who didn’t care enough about you to stay.”

            I scowled at him in disgust. “My brother loved me. He cared about me more than anyone else ever did.”

            “This is bullshit, Karalissa. You say you don’t want to talk about it, and when I try to keep you from thinking, you shove me away!”

            “Maybe that’s because I don’t want you all over me, Marcurio.” I growled at him, shoving his hands away from me once again.

            “Oh, please.” Marcurio said with a laugh. “You’re so backwards! You don’t want to think, but you don’t want my distractions. You don’t want to talk, but you keep saying things that don’t make any sense. And you can’t kiss me the way you have for the last month and a half and then say you don’t want me all over you. So stop talking about your brother and your feelings, because nobody here gives a shit except you.”

            I stared at him, clenching and unclenching my jaw as I decided that his friendship wasn’t worth what came with it. I stood, pulling his long-sleeved shirt over my head and tossing it at him, then moving to fold my bedroll up and place it in my pack.

            “Are you leaving?” he asked, laughter in his voice still. “You’re acting like a baby, Karalissa.”

            As I threw my pack over my shoulder and began to walk away, he realized I wasn’t just trying to get a reaction out of him. “Karalissa, wait!” he called after me, and I heard him stand from the ground. “I didn’t—I’m sorry! Don’t leave me!”

            But I did leave him. I walked all the back to Riften, and I never looked back to see if he followed.

 

            “Karalissa?” Marcurio asked, waving his hand in front of my face to regain my attention.

            I blinked, turning to look at Marc, who still sat beside me on the bench in the Bee and Barb. I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Marc. What did you say?”

            “I said I was sorry, for the things I said on that trip.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean them. I did care about you, and about your feelings, and I guess I was just…I was trying to play the macho man. It seemed to work for my friends, and I just thought…”

            “It’s okay, Marc.” I said, laughing to myself as I nudged him with my elbow. “No one gives a shit about the past, right?”

            Marcurio stared at me, blinking several times before he laughed uncomfortably. “Well, regardless. I am sorry, Karalissa.”

            “I know that.” I said, nodding to him. “And it’s okay. We were young and stupid, and annoying. Everything that happened had a purpose, and I’m at peace with everything that’s happened in my life.”

            Marcurio nodded too, seeming to understand. “You never told me what it was, you know. What made you cry in the woods that day.”

            I smiled at him, just a little. “I thought my brother was dead.”

            Marc’s face fell. “Oh my gods, Karalissa. I’m sorry that I didn’t…I didn’t ask what you meant, when you said you were separated. Gods, why didn’t I ask?”

            “He’s not, though.” I said, shrugging to Marcurio. “Vilkas found him and brought him home.”

            Marcurio sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Could you…apologize to Vilkas for me, too? I said some nasty things to him outside of Jorrvaskr.”

            “I will.” I sat up, then, to look at him seriously. “Marc, the reason I came to speak with you wasn’t to get closure, even though we both sort of needed that.”

            “What was it, then?”

            I raised an eyebrow. “Marc, someone has paid the Companions to do a Hired Muscle job, and you’re the target.”

            Marcurio jerked his head back. “What is Hired Muscle?”

            “Exactly what it sounds like. Someone pays us to find someone and kick their ass to get a point across. Sometimes they ask us to deliver a message, and sometimes they don’t.”

            “And mine didn’t have a message, did it?” Marcurio sighed.

            “Actually, it did. A very specific message. A question, actually.” I pulled the paper from my pack, unfolding it and handing it to him to read. Marc looked at the paper, then glanced up at me, and I remembered then that he couldn’t read what it said. I cleared my throat, leaning toward him to whisper the question. “Still think Wujeeta isn’t hot, lad?”

            Marcurio’s eyes widened at the exact moment that the doors opened and Marcurio’s friend, his best friend when I lived here, entered the tavern. His eyes fixed on Marc, striding toward us quickly.

            “Aye, laddie. You seen Sapph?” He looked at Marc’s face, then at me. Then, back at Marc, his eyebrows raised.

            “Uh, Messala, you remember Karalissa, right?” Marcurio mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

            “Oh, shit.” Messala muttered, slapping the top of his head with his palm. “I owe you forty septims, from years ago.” He reached into his pocket, producing a satchel of coins and dropping it into my lap. “That should more than cover it.”

            I looked at him, a lean Imperial with burn scars surrounding his green eyes, his short hair tussled into an intentional mess. More significantly, he had a thin line of facial hair on his upper lip and nowhere else, which looked so out of place on his face. I’d forgotten all about him, and about the loan. “I appreciate it.” I said to him, raising the satchel he’d given me. “I honestly forgot I gave you money in the first place.”

            “Aye, for the wagon to Whiterun.” Messala said with a goofy grin on his face, then turned back to Marc. “Seen Sapph, Marc?”

            Marcurio cleared his throat. “Have you seen Brynjolf? I have something I’d like to discuss with him.”

            Right on cue, the doors opened, and a tall, red-headed man walked in with Sapphire. They strolled toward Messala, greeting him warmly. Sapphire ducked underneath Messala’s arm, which he wrapped around her shoulders as he kissed the side of her forehead.

            “Bryn, you remember Karalissa, right?” Messala asked.

            Brynjolf looked down at me, then at Marc, then back at me, then back at Marc. “Oh, shit.”

            Marcurio held up the message. “Still think Wujeeta isn’t hot, lad?”

            Brynjolf sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Well, _I_ think she’s hot. I appreciate you asking, though.”

            “Damnit, Brynjolf. Did you pay her to kick my ass?”

            I nodded my head from side to side, pointing to the alias Brynjolf had used to complete the paperwork. “If we’re being technical, Messala Vulerius hired me to kick your ass.”

            Messala snorted. “That’s clever.”

            Brynjolf raised his hands in defense. “Well, I knew she’d come down here to talk to you, but I didn’t think you were gonna impregnate her. I just wanted you both to talk things out.”

            Messala snickered, but Marc was angry. “So you dragged her all the way down here to talk to me.”

            “ _I_ didn’t drag her. The coin did.”

            Sapphire pointed at me. “You snogged all three of them. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that.” She grinned, her usual dry humor evident in her smile.

            “Stay out of my business, Brynjolf.” Marcurio continued around Sapphire. “You had no right—”

            “Well, I got her down here to talk to you, didn’t I?” Brynjolf asked, raising his eyebrows. “And you talked things out! Great! Now let’s get out there and get you a nice lass to hold at night.”

            Marcurio seemed appalled. “I could—I have…I could have a woman if I wanted.”

            “Oh, so you don’t like women, then?” Messala asked, winking at me to let me know they frequently poked fun at Marc.

            "Shut up.” Marc huffed. “All I’m saying is I don’t need Brynjolf to find a woman for me.”

            “Because you don't like women, and all you need is Brynjolf.” Messala concluded, placing his hand over his heart. “How romantic.”

            Brynjolf reached for Marcurio, dropping himself between the two of us and wrapping his arms around Marc’s shoulders. Brynjolf placed a sloppy kiss on Marc’s cheek, running his fingers through Marc’s hair. “Oh, I knew you always loved me, lad.”

            Marcurio laughed when we all did, but still shoved Brynjolf away from him. “Get off of me. I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

            Brynjolf outstretched his hand to me, pulling me to my feet. “Sorry to drag you into my pranks, lass. This one had a purpose, though.”

            “I’m happy to participate.” I said, nodding to him.

            Sapphire took my arm, pulling me toward the bar. “Come on, Mama. Let’s get a drink.”

            We all crowded around one small table in the center of the bar, telling stories about where we’d been and what we’d been doing. It was odd, to see so many people I used to know and not really know them at all, anymore. But still, it was nice to sit with them and listen to their stories, though most of them were making fun of Marcurio.

            The door opened again, and Codus entered, his eye roaming the tavern until he found me. I raised my arm, signaling for him to join us. “Everyone, this is Codus. He’s a Companion with me in Whiterun. Actually, he’s a Companion leader. He’s also one of my closest friends.”

            Codus beamed at me, just for a moment, then his eyes fixed on the people at the table. One person, in particular. Messala stood slowly, blinking several times as he stared at Codus, who stared back in confusion. Everyone at the table was utterly confused, clueless as to what was happening.

            Sapphire tugged Messala’s arm. “Messala?”

            He ignored her, walking around the table to stand before Codus. They didn’t speak. They only stared, analyzing each other wordlessly. They looked sort of similar, though Messala’s hair was darker and Codus’ was longer. Messala was also thinner, and Codus had an inch at most on him in height. Their eyes were identical, though.

            Finally, Messala laughed. “Is it really you, Cody?” When Codus nodded, Messala laughed even louder, gripping the sides of Codus’ head and placing two firm kisses on both of his cheeks alternatively. Then, they hugged, holding each other as if they’d known each other forever, though they’d only just reunited in the bar.

            Codus pressed his face into Messala’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly and smiling bigger than I’d ever seen. He shut his eyes for a moment, savoring the embrace as if he’d been craving the contact for centuries.

            Messala pulled back a bit finally, squeezing Codus’ upper arms. “Why do you have muscles?”

            Codus laughed. “I’m a Companion, idiot. Why do you have that stupid mustache?”

            “It looks good!” Messala said, touching the hair on his lip self-consciously. He shook his head, then, his smile fading. He touched Codus’ neck. “You look so different. I thought…you don’t look like them.”

            Codus shook his head. “I was cured. They told me that you were dead. They said they drained you.” Codus smiled again, then, laughing rhythmically. “You look so old. How much did you age in a few years?”

            Messala blinked at him, shaking his head slowly. “Cody, it’s been _eight_ years.”

            “ _Eight_?” Codus asked, shaking his head rapidly. “No, that’s not right. It’s…I’ve been a Companion for…for a year and half. I was with the coven for a-a year, at most.” He shook his head again. “It’s only been two years. Almost three.”

            Messala placed his hands on either side of Codus’ face. “It’s been eight years, Cody. They took you when you were nineteen.”

            Codus nodded. “I’ll be twenty-two in…in Evening Star.”

            “Cody, you’ll be twenty-eight in Evening Star. You’re twenty-seven.”

            “No, I’m…I wasn’t with Alva for that long. It was only a year.” Something registered on Codus’ face, then, as if he finally understood. “Maybe…it was longer.” He looked at me, his eyes wild. “I’ve only been a Companion for…for a year and a half. Right?”

            I nodded. “A year and a half.”

            He shook his head. “I’m twenty-seven.”

            Messala nodded. “Aye, laddie. You’re twenty-seven.”

            Codus smirked after a moment. “That means you’re thirty-one.”

            “Don’t remind me.” Messala said, ruffling Codus’ hair. Then he stepped to the side, extending his arm to Sapphire. “Sapph, this is Codus. He’s my brother.”

            “Oh, gods.” Sapphire said, standing and walking toward them. “Messala never stops talking about you.”

            Codus laughed as Sapphire hugged him. “Uh, Messala..." As they separated, Codus looked at Messala curiously. "So..."

             Messala shook his head. "Messala Vulerius. That's my name."

             Codus snorted. "Oh, sure. Whatever you say, 'Messala'."

              Brynjolf pointed at Codus. "Wait right there, little lad. Are you trying to tell me his name isn't Messala Vulerius?"

               "Don't answer that, Cody." Messala mumbled. 

                Codus snorted. "Oh, I won't answer t if you don't want me to, brother." He offered Brynjolf one raised eyebrow. "But you all should know that my name is Codus Messala. Our father's name was Vulerius."

            Brynjolf's eyes widened. "You're name...isn't Messala..."

            Marc grinned. "What's the real name? Tell us, you dirty liar."

            Messala shook his head, raising his eyebrows. "Nope. Not happening. Thanks a lot, Cody."

            "The truth, Mustache Boy!" Brynjolf shouted, slamming his fists in he table top. "We want the truth, or we're getting it from your brother."

            "No." Messala grumbled, folding his arms. 

           Sapphire glanced at Brynjolf. "Oh, it's bad too."

            "Why does Sapphire know and we dont?!" Marcurio shouted. 

              Codus grinned. "Because his name is Desideratus."

              Messala groaned, grabbing Codus by the shoulders and crushing him in a hug. "If we hadn't been separated for so long, I would kill you right now." he said, just barely audible over Marc and Brynjolf's laughter. 

            "You'll never forgive him, Desi." Brynjolf snickered. "Desi! Desi! Desi!"

            After that, Codus sat between me and Messala, who kept one hand on Codus’ back at all times. “Well, let’s hear it, Cody. Where have you been?”

            Codus smiled softly, then launched into his tale.

 

 

            “And he didn’t know that it’s been eight years.” I said to Aela, whose eyes widened in shock.

            “My gods.” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Is he alright?”

            I nodded to her. “Yes, he’s fine. He stayed in Riften with his brother, though. To catch up.”

            “Of course.” Aela said. Then, in a lower voice, “He’s coming back, right?”

            “Yes, he’s coming back.” I laughed as Aela’s face relaxed, relieved to hear Codus would return to us. “He’s spending the remainder of the week there, and then he’s coming back.”

            Vilkas shook his head. “That’s insanity.” he mumbled, pursing his lips. “I feel terrible for him.”

            I looked out at the mead hall, which was filled with Companions as they ate their supper. I smiled to myself, then at Aela and Vilkas. “He’s happy. He’s been through a lot, and I’m happy that he’s happy now.”

            “Me too.” Aela said. “But if he’s not back within the week, I’m going to Riften looking for him. I’m not losing Codus.”

            “You’re just worried about your totems.” Vilkas said, nudging her playfully.

            Aela scowled at him. “Codus is my friend more than anything else, Vilkas. Don’t misinterpret my worry for selfishness.”

            Vilkas nodded, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I’m only messing with you, Aela. I know he’s your friend.” He furrowed his brow then, looking out at the mead hall. “We’re all a family. Siblings.”

            “Shield-Siblings.” Aela said, a sly smile on her face. “But we’re more than that, right Vilkas?”

            “Aye.” Vilkas mumbled, rolling his eyes. “We’re real siblings more than Shield-Siblings. We always have been.”

            “Good.” Aela said, kicking her feet up on the table we sat at, not caring that her boot just barely touched Vilkas’ spoon. “Now that the mushy shit is out of the way, I have some serious business to discuss.”

            “Alright.” Vilkas said, glancing at me and then back at Aela.

            She stared at me. “You’re naming the baby after me, right?”

            I laughed loudly, unable to contain it. “You’re hilarious, Aela.”

            She snickered. “I know, I know.” Her smile faded, and she set her feet back on the floor. “In all seriousness, though, is something going on with Farkas? He seems…I don’t know. He’s been distant.”

            I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”

            Aela sighed, resting her palm against her hand. “He’s been avoiding me, I think. It’s like he’s hiding something from me.” She looked at Vilkas. “Has he said anything to you?”

            I turned to my husband, who was sipping from a tankard of mead with one hand and holding up Ysgramor’s book to hide his face. “No, Aela. He hasn’t told me anything.”

            I snatched the book away from his hand, earning a confused glance from Aela. I pointed at Vilkas. “You’re lying.”

            “I would never lie to you, Kara.” Vilkas said, furrowing his brow.

            I narrowed my eyes. “Aela asked. I didn’t.”

            “So, I definitely didn’t lie to you.” He took his book back, picking up wherever he left off.

            This time, Aela snatched the book away from him. “Tell Lissa you don’t know anything. Look her in her face and say it.”

            Vilkas shrugged, turning to me. “I don’t know anything.” he said simply, a small smile on his face. He took his book back again, and lowered his eyes to the pages.

            I took the book from him again. “You didn’t tell him he had to mean it!” I exclaimed, shaking my head. “How can you live with yourself, Vilkas?”

            “I haven’t lied to you, Kara.” Vilkas said, taking his book back and tabbing the page, shutting it because he knew he wouldn’t be able to read it anymore. “My brother and I are very close. We tell each other everything.”

            Aela and I exchanged a glance, utterly confused. “I don’t…” Aela stammered. “I don’t know why he’s saying these things.”

            “He’s not lying, but he’s not telling the truth either.” I furrowed my brow, staring at Vilkas and trying to figure him out. He stared back at me casually, an eyebrow raised challengingly. It was a look that told me that he did know something, and Aela wasn’t supposed to know.

            I raised my eyebrows. “He doesn’t know anything. Farkas is my best friend. He would have told me.”

            Aela nodded her head from side to side. “You’re probably right.” She looked away, then, her attention occupied by something happening in the center of the room.

            I turned back to Vilkas, narrowing my eyes as I tried to figure out what he was hiding. He blinked at me, and I knew he wouldn’t tell me if I asked him. He never lied to me, and he would always tell me if I was right or wrong when I guessed.

            I looked at Aela, whose brow was furrowed as she watched whatever it was she was watching. Turning back to Vilkas, I furrowed my brow. He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and casually adjusting the chain around his neck, which held the wedding band that matched mine. He raised an eyebrow at me, blinking as I watched him.

            I gasped, and Vilkas returned to a normal position just before Aela turned to look at us. She stared at me, her mouth agape. “You lied to me, Lissa! He does know something, and now you know too!”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Aela.” I placed my hand on my stomach. “I felt a kick. It surprised me.”

            Farkas climbed the stairs leading out of the living area a moment after I spoke, a smile on his face as always. He strode across the room, greeting several Companions as he passed them and exchanging pleasantries. Then, he approached our table, dropping down into the seat between Vilkas and Aela, smiling happily at all of us.

            As he took a bite of Vilkas’ bread, then placed it back on his plate, Farkas looked around at all of us. Though Vilkas glared, Farkas ignored him. “Why are we all being quiet?” he asked casually.

            Aela stared at Farkas, a scowl on her face. “What aren’t you telling me?”

            Farkas blinked, then he laughed, scooting his chair toward Aela’s and wrapping both of his arms around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder, looking at her in admiration. “Who told you?”

            “Nobody is telling me anything.” she grumbled, glaring at me for a moment, then looking at Farkas again. She put on her best fake pouting face.

            Farkas kissed her chin, a little laugh in his voice as he spoke. “Are you just smart, or is Vilkas stupid?”

            “Both.” she said, raising her eyebrows in exasperation. “You’ve been everywhere but here, and Vilkas isn’t telling the truth, but he’s not lying.” She huffed. “I’m confused.”

            “Poor baby.” Farkas mumbled, kissing her on the lips. Vilkas and I exchanged a glance, both of us feeling equally awkward as we watched. Farkas put one of his hands on Aela’s leg. “Did you miss me?”

            “I still miss you.” she said, still fake pouting. “I need a lot of attention. You know that.”

            “I do know that.” Farkas said, laughing quietly. Aela laughed too, pushing a little bit of his long hair away from his face. He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want a lot of attention right now?”

            Aela offered him a sly smirk. “You know I do.”

            “Oh, gross.” Vilkas said, scowling in disgust and looking only at me.

            They ignored him. “Do you want me to cause a scene?” Farkas asked her, kissing the very corner of her mouth.

            “Yes.” Aela said, laughing audibly now. “Cause a scene for me.”

            “Okay.” Farkas said, kissing her one more time before he stood from the table. He kicked Vilkas’ plate off of the table, heaving himself up to stand on the table above us.

            Farkas outstretched his arms. “Companions!” he called, a smile never leaving his face. “I am causing a scene!”

            The room cheered, no one louder than Aela. Vilkas rolled his eyes, annoyed at what was happening, but just as curious as I was.

            “Why are you causing a scene?” Torvar called from across the room, raising his mug as if he expected Farkas to make a toast.

            “I am causing a scene because Aela the Huntress is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met!” Farkas yelled, and the room cheered again. “She’s smart! And she’s got nice teeth! And she looks damned good in that little dress!”

            Aela was crying with laughter, so amused that Farkas did literally anything she asked him to do. She wiped her eyes, nearly falling out of her chair. “Okay, okay. That’s enough, Farkas.”

            “But what else?” Farkas called, shrugging his shoulders. “Who has something nice to say about Aela?”

            “She’s a top-notch warrior!” Thorald called, and the room cheered in unison.

            Avulstein nodded. “And she’s a good leader!”

            Ria smiled. “She doesn’t let men push her around!”

            “She doesn’t let anyone push her around.” Athis added with a shrug.

            Njada smiled a little too, her hand over Ralof’s. “She’s got the best legs in this room!” The men whistled.

            Erik the Slayer shrugged. “She’s nice sometimes!”

            “And she smells good!” I shouted, just wanting to be involved somehow.

            Farkas laughed. “And all of these reasons are why I’m in love with Aela the Huntress!” The room cheered again, and Farkas hopped off of the table. “Aela is beautiful, and smart, and fierce and perfect, in every sense of the word. She’s a woman who isn’t afraid to spit in your face after she beats the hell out of you, and I love that.”

            Aela straightened up, her face now red with embarrassment. “Okay, Farkas. That’s really enough. I was only joking.”

            “You maybe be joking, Aela, but I’m not.” Farkas said, speaking at a normal volume now that he’d gained the entire room’s attention. “Aela the Huntress is the light of my life, the happiness I didn’t know I could feel, and the love I didn’t know I had.”

            “Farkas…” Aela mumbled, her eyes growing wide in horror as Farkas lowered himself to kneel in front of her.

            “Aela, I have loved you since the day I met you. I was only fifteen years old then, and I’m almost thirty, now. I have loved you for half of my life, and I’ll love you for the rest of my life.” He put his hand on her leg again. “And I want you to marry me.”

            Aela’s upper lip curled. “What?”

            “I want you to marry me.” he repeated, smiling that same Farkas smile at her. “I was just going to ask you later, but I saw an opportunity.”

            Aela’s eyes darted around the room, intimidated by all of the eyes watching her. “Farkas.” She said through her teeth, which formed a fake grin. “I don’t want to get married.”

            “I know that.” Farkas said, kissing her knee. “But we always do what you want. I just want this one thing, Aela. Marry me.”

            Something changed in Aela’s eyes, then. She watched Farkas’ face, the happiness that reflected in his gray eyes, and something just clicked. I could see it on her face. She smiled, a smile that I’d never seen on her before. She was mortified at the scene he’d caused, but she would do anything for Farkas, just as he would do anything for her.

            She sighed, placing her hands on either side of his face. “Fine. I’ll marry you. But we are never doing anything you want ever again.”

            “Understood.” Farkas mumbled. Then, he scooped her out of the chair and held her up in front of everyone. “She said yes!”

            All of Jorrvaskr cheered, no one louder than me and Vilkas as we watched Farkas set Aela back on the ground. He leaned down to her, his large hand gently placed against the side of her face as he kissed her.

            And thus ended a very long and very emotional year. A happy ending for everyone, for my entire family, and I’d never felt more alive and loved than when Vilkas wrapped his arm around my chest, kissing the side of my face as we watched Farkas and Aela, our siblings and our closest friends, kiss to the sound of the Companions cheering for them.

            “It’s a good life, our life.” Vilkas said, placing his hand on my stomach. My heart fluttered as he spoke, and I turned away from Farkas and Aela to look at him. “Isn’t it, pup?”

            And I watched my husband’s face, dirty as it always had been, but still so handsome. The dark scars that stretched across his face drew attention away from his secret features: the dimples that showed when he smiled, which was rare for him; his two crooked bottom teeth that only showed if you really looked; the little line in his left eyebrow where hair just didn’t grow. Everything about him, everything about us, everything about our life was just a bunch of imperfections that made up this crazy, eventful, tragic, beautiful story, one that I couldn’t find a fault in, no matter how many faults there actually were.

            I smiled at my husband, placing my hand against the side of his face. “It is a good life, Villy.” I said to him. “The very best.” 


	30. A Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years later, the gang gets together for Catriona's fifth birthday. Later, Karalissa has a dream.
> 
> POV: Cassius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three year time jump from the last chapter. Hahaha
> 
> Sorry I haven't posted this. I've been at work.

            “Papa?” a little voice said from behind me. I turned, my gaze finding my daughter standing in the doorway. She held a piece of paper in her hands, her big blue eyes staring up at me as she waited for acknowledgment. I smiled a little, noting that she was the spitting image of my sister, except for the eyes. She had long hair, the color of honey as mine was, that nearly reached her waist, and she always had a happy smile on her face. She was just like Lydia, too; a fiery attitude and a beacon of spunk, but also so loving and giving. Cat was a perfect combination of my two favorite people in the world.

            I leaned against my dresser, looking down at her and admiring how big she was getting. I really smiled, then, watching her watching me. “Yes, little one?”

            She walked toward me, holding out the paper for me to take. I looked down at the paper, a child’s drawing of a woman with a bow. The woman had long hair and brown eyes, and she stood with a young girl who held a sword, nearly identical in appearance, but her eyes were blue instead.

            “This is really good, Cat.” I said, nodding to her.

            She beamed. “Do you think Aunt Karl will like it?” she asked, pointing to the woman on the paper. “It’s me and her.”

            I smiled, nodding to my daughter again. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

            “Good.” Cat said, taking the paper from me and walking toward the door. “I’ll give it to her tomorrow, then.”

            I followed after her down the hall, curious about the drawing. “Why are you giving Aunt Karl a present on _your_ birthday?”

            Cat shrugged as she turned to enter her room. “I don’t know. Just because.”

            Lydia was in Cat’s room, picking toys off of her floor and tossing them into a basket. “Catriona, you won’t be getting any presents tomorrow if this room isn’t clean.”

            Cat sighed, setting her drawing on the little desk in the corner and then moving to help Lydia pick things up off of her floor. She placed her dolls in their cubby in the corner of her room, then picked her books up off of the floor, stacking them on the shelf in no particular order.

            Lydia had gotten down on her hands and knees to pull laundry out from underneath Cat’s bed when I decided I should help. Though she was almost five years old, Cat was still short and had these cute little arms, so she couldn’t reach much higher than the second shelf. She handed me some books, and I began to stack them on the third shelf of her bookcase.

            “Um.” Lydia mumbled from the floor, where she promptly stood from and set her feet, my broadsword in her hand, which she’d found under Cat’s bed. “Catriona Felstead. Do you want to explain this to me?”

            Cat folded her hands behind her back. “I was just…trying to practice.”

            “How many times have I told you not to take weapons?” Lydia asked, and Cat lowered her head. “You’re going to get yourself hurt, Cat.”

            Catriona sighed, nodding to Lydia. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

            “That is a _huge_ sword, Catriona.” I said, shaking my head as I took the sword from Lydia’s hand and moved to leave the room. “You can’t take swords.”

            “Um, Cassius Felstead.” Lydia said, her voice angry enough to stop me in my tracks. “What makes you think you’re not in trouble too?”

            I spun around to look at her. “What the hell did I do?”

            “How many times have I told _you_ not to leave your weapons where she can reach them? She’s little. If this had been in the _weapons rack_ and not propped up behind our _bedroom door_ …”

            “I’m a grown man, Lyd. I can put my weapons wherever I want.” I said with a snort, then I saw the glare she gave me. It gave me shivers, the way she stared, waiting for me to correct myself. “Unless you tell me not to, then I put them in the weapons rack.”

            “That’s right.” Lydia said with a nod. She pointed at Cat. “You don’t take weapons.” She pointed at me. “And _you_ do what I say.”

            “Yes, Mama.” Cat and I both said in unison.

            “Good.” Lydia concluded, smiling to herself. “Now get in bed.”

            Catriona climbed into bed, and Lydia and I both tucked her in and kissed her goodnight. We shut the door behind us as we exited quietly, and I sighed, walking down the hall to Lydia’s study, where she’d placed the weapons rack so she could lock the door.

            Since Cat had begun to express an interest in weapons, we’d been in deep shit. She kept taking them, whatever she could get her hands on, and hiding them in her room. I’d never forget the day that Lydia came out of Cat’s bedroom with four little daggers that our daughter had swiped from the barracks when Cat had followed Lydia down there, or the look on Lydia’s face as she held them up and scolded Cat. It had been the most confusing thing I’d ever seen, because her voice was so angry but her eyes were so proud.

            I hitched the sword into place on the rack and turned to Lydia, who was standing close behind me. I pointed to the sword. “Happy?”

            She wrapped her arms around my torso, pulling me close to her. “Very happy.” she mumbled, kissing me rather ferociously on the lips. She wrapped her arms around my neck, bringing my face down to hers so she could kiss me even more.

            “Well, well.” I said, my words muffled as she kissed me again. “This is nice.”

            “Mhm.” she mumbled, too busy running her fingers through my long hair to say much else. I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her against me and wishing that every moment of my life was just like this one.

            “By the Gods.” my mother’s voice grumbled as she passed by in the hall. “At least close the door.”

            Lydia and I jerked apart, embarrassed by my mother’s words and sudden appearance.

            “Gods, Ma.” I cried, feeling my face burn in humiliation. “Can’t a man get some privacy in his own damned home?”

            “Watch your mouth, Cassius.” Ma said, pointing at me and furrowing her brow. “Behave yourself. You’re a grown man, and grown men don’t speak to their mothers like that.” She gave me another angry glare, then turned to Lydia and smiled. “Goodnight, Lydia. I hope you have wonderful evening.”

            “Thank you, Fjoli.” Lydia said, beaming at my mother. “Same to you.”

            Ma left then, shooting me one more glance before she strode down the hall toward her room. When I heard her door shut, I groaned. “What the hell is with you women? Why am I always in trouble?”

            “Because you’re the worst.” Lydia said, kissing my scruffy cheek and then turning on her heel to leave the room. “You’re a truly terrible man.”

            I sighed, shaking my head. “So I’ve been told.”

 

 

            “What the—” I mumbled, staring up at the roof as footsteps dashed across it. I turned to Karl, who sat two chairs over from me, my brow furrowed in confusion. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

            Karalissa sighed, running her hand over her son’s dark hair, who sat in the seat between her and me with his nose in a child’s book. “It is, unfortunately. Aela’s on the roof.”

            “Why, though?” I asked, rolling my good eye as I spoke.

            “You know how she is.” Karalissa grumbled. “She can’t stay in one place too long, and Farkas hoisted her up there. Vilkas went out to get them and make them come back.” Karl shrugged. “She likes the view.”

            “Well, I may have to climb up there, then. If the view is that good.”

            “Papa says Aela should sit her ass down and behave.” Leif said from between me and Karl. My sister dropped her jaw as her son spoke, but I couldn’t contain a laugh. Three years old, and Leif was more like Vilkas than Karalissa. He was just a little Vilkas, really: dark wavy hair, slate gray eyes, and dimples to accompany an angry glare. The only thing he got from Karl was a few freckles spattered across his nose, but right down to the personality, he was Vilkas.

            “Leif.” Karalissa said sternly. “Do you think that’s an appropriate thing to say?”

Leif simply shrugged, turning his attention back to his book. “Papa said it. Not me. I’m just telling you what he said.”

            “Well, Papa’s going to be in trouble.” Karalissa mumbled, and I laughed again. She glared at me. “What’s so funny, Cassius?”

            “Both of our children have no filter.” I said, then lowered myself to whisper to Leif. “Don’t let her fool you, Leif. Your mama says bad words, too.”

            “I do not!” Karalissa cried, covering her son’s ears. He didn’t even react, but instead continued to read his little book. “Cassius, I will kick your ass. Or, I’ll stab your other eye out with a fork.” I simply rolled my eyes at the threat, because it was one she used often.

            Leif sighed, turning to stare up at his mother. “I’m sorry I said it, Mama. I won’t anymore.” He sat silently, waiting for Karalissa to forgive him. Another trait he’d inherited from Vilkas: he never wanted Karalissa to be unhappy.

            “It’s okay, baby.” Karalissa said, running her hand over his hair again and earning a small smile from the boy. “Why don’t you go play with Cat?” she pointed to the corner, where my daughter was talking to old Gunjar, simply because she enjoyed his stories.

            Leif nodded, closing his book and handing it to Karalissa before he climbed down from his seat. She kissed his forehead as he passed, then watched him walk across the room toward my daughter with his hands in his little pockets.

            “He’s a good kid.” I said to Karl, moving to Leif’s seat to sit beside my sister. She smiled at me, happy to hear me say it, but I knew she didn’t need to. She already knew.

            It had been a very quick three years, filled with nothing but change, but still so similar to how things used to be. There had only been a few major changes to our lives since the shit-storm years we endured, when Ulfric became our father and Viarmo died, or when Vilkas died, or when I almost died; when we won the war, or when Ma came to live with us. Things had been relatively peaceful, a simple life in the Palace of Kings.

            Lydia had turned Windhelm around one hundred and eighty degrees. Once a city founded on racism and separation, Lydia had gone to great lengths to make our city more united, refusing to categorize her people based on what skin they wore. The very first change she made was to abolish the Gray Quarters, building housing throughout the city to blend the citizens of Windhelm together, and anyone who had a problem with it was asked to leave.

            She was worried, at first, that she would lose a lot of her people to the changes she made, but an overwhelming majority were tired of living in such a dark and dreary city, living in fear of judgement from their neighbors for employing someone who wasn’t of the human race. Now, the Argonians worked in the city and many of the men trickled out to the docks. Many of the Dunmer who had been forced to live in the ghettos of Windhelm thrived in their shop jobs and cohabited the colorful neighborhoods Lydia had constructed. She invited any able bodied man or woman to join the Windhelm guards, since the vast lot of our guard was dominantly male.

            Jarl Lydia Battle-Maiden was damned proud of herself, as she should have been. She’d turned the lives of hundreds of people around, given them hope to overcome the dark that Windhelm had previously endured. The gray streets of Windhelm were now—wait for it—draped in banners of yellow and peach, and everyone loved it.

            The Dragonborn was nearly entirely retired, which was something I was one hundred percent grateful for. All I’d ever wanted was to get old and fat, and scratch my big beard while I watched my children play, and I had a real shot at doing that now. As Paarthurnax had promised, he’d managed to convince the majority of the remaining dragons to follow his lead and take to meditation, and I only had to deal with one nasty one every few months as the numbers dwindled. I hadn’t seen one in a long time, though, and I wasn’t complaining.

            I was content to sit in Lydia’s palace surrounded by my children. Hell, I was content to let the Dragonborn become some sort of fable: a children’s tale that parents told to get their pups to sleep at night. I never wanted to be a hero, a savior that Skyrim created and raised to defend her honor and her people. I had simply wanted to be a soldier, and I _was_ just that. I wanted to be a husband and a father, and I’d become that too. And when I watched my daughter, inviting her dark-haired cousin to sit with her and listen to Gunjar’s story, I knew that everything I’d ever done to fight against dragons or defend the freedom of Skyrim was utterly unimportant, because this was what I was meant to do.

            Karl had a lot of change to her life, too. The Companions had recruited so many members, she’d been busy expanding the living quarters of Jorrvaskr to accommodate her new warriors. Her little group of leaders, the Circle, had always stayed a close knit group of five, though they’d been considering promoting Thorald Gray-Mane, who’d stepped up and helped Farkas train the whelps when Vilkas was busy caring for his son while Karalissa was in a meeting in Dragonsreach or doing a walkthrough of the Hold. Karalissa and Vilkas both put a lot of stress on themselves to ensure that their son knew he was loved, and if that meant turning a lot of the work over to the other members of the Circle, Karl was happy to do it. Their boy was growing up in Jorrvaskr, just as Farkas and Vilkas had, and everyone loved him, but no one more than his parents. I’d even traveled out to Whiterun to help Farkas with the training myself, and it was so funny to watch Vilkas sit on the porch with his son in his lap, completely ignoring his whelps because reading with his son was far more important.

            I sort of smiled to myself, remembering the scene we’d all caused in Riften a year or two ago. Karalissa, Vilkas, Lydia, and I had left our children with Ma to attend Aela and Farkas’ wedding at the Temple of Mara, a place we were now all banned from. We were very nearly banned from Riften all together after Vilkas and Farkas got hammered and started a fist fight in the marketplace, not with each other but between two guards, and Aela had broken one of the Shrines of Mara, and Karalissa had thrown up in an urn and wiped her mouth on one of the banners hanging from the Temple of Mara. Even I had been absolutely smashed and taken a ride piggy-back on Vilkas around Riften, kicking over buggies of vegetables and smacking guards across the backs of their stupid helmets.

We’d all been arrested and thrown in the dungeon of Mistveil Keep, and Lydia had to bail us out the next morning. If Laila Law-Giver hadn’t been such a fan of Lydia’s, after Lydia decked Maven Black-Briar in the face and told her to get the hell out of Laila’s Keep, she would have refused us to ever come back. We weren’t banned, just not allowed to be in the city all at the same time. Farkas and Aela spent their first night of marriage in the clunker with the three of us, vomiting all over ourselves and laughing stupidly, but I’d never seen them happier. Farkas had even called it the very best night of his life, and Aela had agreed.

            The front doors of the Palace of Kings opened, and Vilkas entered with his hand wrapped around Aela’s arm, dragging her with him. Farkas trailed behind, his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. Vilkas dropped Aela into the seat across from us at the table, forcing her to sit as Farkas took the seat beside her. Vilkas walked around the table to sit beside Karalissa, grumbling unintelligibly to himself.

            Karalissa leaned against her palm, staring up at Vilkas with love-struck eyes. “Have I ever told you how utterly in love with you I am?”

            Vilkas’ face blushed, and he scratched the lower half of his face because he was going through another beard phase. “I mean…yes?”

            She smiled, kissing his cheek and then whispering to him. “Stop cursing in front of my son, or I’m going to have to cut your tongue out.”

            Vilkas choked on the breath he had taken, transitioning from confused at Karalissa’s remark to embarrassment as he heard her words. He covered his mouth with his fist, coughing for a moment before looking down at my sister. “What did he say?”

            Karalissa scowled, her eyes darting toward Aela then back to Vilkas. She raised her eyebrows. “That Aela should ‘sit her ass down and behave’.”

            “Not happening.” Aela mumbled around a yawn. Farkas glared at Vilkas, though.

            Vilkas laughed uncomfortably. “That boy listens to everything I say.”

            “He really does.” Karalissa said. “So, watch your mouth.”

            “I will.” Vilkas said, nodding to my sister.

            “Children are so stupid.” Aela mumbled, leaning against Farkas’ shoulder. “Why do they just do everything everyone else does? Be your own man.”

            “He’s three years old, Aela.” Farkas said with a laugh, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “He doesn’t know any better.”

            “Yeah, well.” Aela grumbled, dropping her head to the table. “I’m so bored.”

            Gunjar finished his tale around the same time the Palace doors opened again, and the High King entered with his housecarl close behind. We all cheered our greetings, waving for them to come sit with us.

            Ulfric had made changes to the country of Skyrim, too. After diminishing the remaining Imperial camps and soldiers that dwindled on our land, he’d been communicating with some of the leaders in High Rock, working to establish their own independence from the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. He traveled a lot, and he’d actually created a city around his castle, Northshore, to harbor any High Rock natives who sought refuge from the Dominion’s rule over the Empire, and henceforth rule over them.

            Northshore was a thriving city, with its own court, shops and marketplace, a bar and a tavern and a Temple of Talos, where many could gather to worship their once banned god, who ascended from man to become a guardian of man himself. Even with all he’d been busied with, Ulfric still never missed a birthday, an event, a party. He valued family over his title, and he never let any of us forget it.

            As Ulfric took his seat, Cat bounded up to him, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Ulfric laughed, happy to see his grandchildren and to be greeted in such a manner. Leif didn’t exactly follow suit, walking past Ulfric and offering him a small wave and a grunt of acknowledgment before he scooted me and Karalissa over to sit beside his father.

            Galmar smirked at me, a quiet and sly smile that told me he really had no interest in the mushy part of the reunions. But still, he watched Ulfric intently, his eyes never straying from the High King for too long. He was his sworn protector and guardian after all, among other things.

            “Now, I believe we came here for someone’s birthday.” Ulfric said, reaching into Galmar’s pack to produce an oddly shaped package. He handed it to Cat, whose face lit up as she shook it.

            “Can I open it, Papa?” she asked me, her eyes sparkling with pure excitement.

            I shrugged. “Sure, little one.” I smiled as Lydia entered the room with my mother, helping the Palace’s servants carry out platter after platter of food.

            “Wait, Cat.” Lydia called just as Catriona began to untie the strings. “Not until after supper.”

            Cat sighed, setting the package on the table and turning back to Ulfric and fiddling with the braid that framed her grandfather’s face. “Thank you, anyway. I’m sure it’s great.”

            “Just a little longer.” I said, passing plates to everybody as the food was set on the table and ready to eat. Everyone took their seats, Ma sitting across from me and beside Lydia. Aela and Farkas sat on the other side of Ma, while Cat sat between Lydia and Ulfric, Galmar sitting quietly to the High King’s left. Beside me was my sister, her son crammed in between her and Vilkas.

            Karalissa picked up a plate, looking down at her son. “What do you want to eat, Leif?”

            He’d taken his book back, never looking up at his mother, but stealing a glance at Vilkas. “What Papa has, I think.”

            Vilkas smiled a little, shrugging to Karalissa before he took the plate from her. “I’ll make it.”

            “Okay.” Karalissa shrugged too, taking a plate of her own to add food to.

            We all ate together, the entire family, and we told stories of where we’d been since the last time we saw each other. We told our old stories, the stories of us and who we were and what made us who we were. We regaled to our children our memories, important things that happened to us that brought us to the people we now called family, what made us close to the people we always had called family.

            And I looked down at my sister when Lydia was in the middle of telling a story about slaying dragons, which Cat and Leif, and Farkas for that matter, listened to intently. She caught my stare, greeted it with her own smile, and we watched each other for a moment because we were just happy.

            It was the life we both had always wanted. To have families, to have our parents with us. To have children who knew they were loved because we didn’t know we were for the longest time. To have close friends who knew us better than we knew ourselves. And to have each other, because that’s all Karalissa and I had ever really had. Each other.

            And that moment was good. It was loud and talkative, but also secretive, the glance Karalissa and I shared. But it was perfect, because it was us. And it always had been.

 

 

            “Morning.” I mumbled to Vilkas, who sat at the table in our kitchen, the hour still far too early for me to even exist. I hadn’t been able to sleep much, though, and I’d given up trying after a little while.

            Vilkas grunted in acknowledgment, pouring a cup of coffee and passing it to me. “You’re up earlier than you usually are.”

            I shrugged, struggling and failing to suppress a yawn. “Yeah, well it’s not by choice.”

            “Can’t sleep without a bedtime story?” Vilkas asked, raising an eyebrow in mockery.

            “Ha ha.” I took a long swig from the cup, letting the scolding coffee burn the inside of my mouth. When I swallowed it, I sighed. “I couldn’t really sleep at all, actually. Something feels…off.”

            “Off?” Vilkas questioned, his brow furrowing.

            I reached behind my head to adjust the cloth that covered my missing eye, which had become loose and threatened to fall off. I sighed as I sat across from Vil. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just…a feeling. Like today is going to blow.”

            “Mm.” Vilkas mumbled, taking several swallows from his own mug. “Maybe it’s the beginning of something new. Something really good.”

            “Maybe.” I concluded, hoping he was right. “Where’s my sister?” They had all stayed in the palace after Cat’s birthday celebration. There was plenty of room, plenty of beds to fill in our vast living quarters, but it wasn’t like Karl to sleep this late.

            Vilkas snorted. “Kara didn’t sleep much last night, actually. She tossed and turned all night.” He shook his head. “Come to think of it, with her mumbling and tossing, and Leif kicking my back every twenty minutes, I didn’t sleep much either.”

            “Was she having a nightmare or something?”

            “Who, Kara?” Vil asked, his brow furrowed. When I nodded, he shook his head. “No, Kara doesn’t dream. She was just…restless, I suppose.”

            “Huh.” I said, my brow furrowing. “I didn’t know that. Never?”

            “Never dreams.”

            “Interesting. I wonder why I didn’t know that.”

            Vilkas shrugged. “She’s odd.”

            “That, she is.” I said with a laugh, shaking my head. I pointed at Vilkas’ outfit. “Did you have to get all armored up for coffee?”

            Vilkas raised an eyebrow. “Did _you_?” He nodded to my own iron armor

            “Mine takes two seconds to put on.” I said, unable to contain a snort. “I can’t imagine how long it takes you to put on the sleeves and the shoulder pads and the skirt—”

            “About two seconds.” Vilkas said, his gaze returning to his mug. “Wear this armor for as long as I have, and you don’t even have to think about putting it on.”

            There was shuffling in the hall, then, and we turned to the doorway to watch as my sister appeared. She was dressed in her leather armor, as she always was, but her long hair was a knotted mess, indicating that she’d hurried to get out here. Her eyes wore worry, though, and she looked at me for just a moment before she looked at Vilkas.

            “Morning, love.” Vilkas said happily before his voice trailed off.

            “Morning, Karl.” I said, raising my mug to greet her. She just stared in confusion, her eyes darting back and forth between me and Vil.

            “What is it, Kara?” Vilkas asked, concern audible in his voice.

            Karalissa shook her head slowly, scratching the back of her neck through her tangled bed hair. “I…had a dream.”

            Vilkas jerked his head back. “Are you sure?”

            She glared at him. “I’m pretty positive, Vilkas.” She took the seat beside him, still shaking her head.

            “It wasn’t…bad, was it?” Vilkas asked her, placing his hand against her back.

            I cocked my head to the side. “Define bad, Vil.”

            Vilkas cleared his throat. “Well, the last time Kara dreamed anything at all, she dreamed my funeral.” He blinked at me, pausing to add a bit of emphasis. “A night or two before the ambush in Dawnstar.”

            “Oh, shit.” I mumbled, turning to look at Karl. “A premonition?”

            “I don’t know.” Karalissa muttered, still shaking her head. “I can’t make any sense of it.”

            “Well, what was it?” I asked, my curiosity more than peaked.

            She sighed, taking a sip of Vilkas’ coffee. “I dreamed about dragons.”

            “Dragons?” Vilkas mumbled, utterly confused.

            “Yeah.” Karl said, looking down at the table in confusion, as if she were re-watching the dream. “I dreamed that I was standing in this…clearing, up in the sky somewhere. It was like…like I was above the rest of the world. I felt close to home, but I was far away. Does that make sense?” Vilkas and I both nodded, urging her to continue. “It was snowing, so high up, and I was shivering as I walked across the flat area toward the wall. I don’t think…I don’t think I was wearing armor, and I didn’t have boots on.

            “It wasn’t really a wall, though. It was more of a…a piece of a wall. As if something had been built there before, but it had been torn down centuries ago, and all that was left was this one piece. I was trying to understand what the letters meant, but I couldn’t make any sense of them. They were in some kind of…language that I couldn’t decipher.

            “Not a moment later, this dragon landed on the wall before me. I’ve never seen a dragon before, but its features were exact. It was gray, sort of greenish in tint. It was…old. I can’t explain how I knew that, but it was old and wise. It spoke to me, it said something very significant, and then it just watched me. And when I looked up at the sky, there were other dragons circling overhead. Dozens. They just…cried. They sang songs that only other dragons understood, but it felt like they were for me.”

            My back was tense, confused as Karalissa described a place I knew very well. “Karl, what did the dragon say?” I asked slowly, unsure if I wanted to know the answer or not.

            Karalissa shook her head. “He said something I couldn’t understand, in a tongue I didn’t speak. Then, he said ‘Recreated and reborn.’” She looked up at me, her eyes riddled with confusion. “Do you know what it means, Cass?”

            “You perfectly described the Throat of the World, Karl.” I explained. “Paarthurnax, that’s the old and wise dragon. When I returned from Sovngarde, I was there for a moment before I landed in the fields outside of Whiterun, and it was exactly like that. Dragons circling overhead, cries ringing out through the skies. It was…that’s exactly it.”

            Vilkas was twice as confused. “How could she possibly know what the Throat of the World looked like, Cass?”

            “She shouldn’t.” I said. “There’s no way she would know.”

            “Well,” Vilkas began. “She has heard you tell that story a thousand times. Maybe she just…dreamed what you told her.”

            “I mean, maybe.” Karalissa mumbled. “That would…make sense. But why would I dream at all? Regardless of what I have and haven’t heard.”

            I shrugged as Farkas entered, Leif on his hip and Aela trailing closely behind. He lifted Leif up a little, the boy’s face displaying a small grimace. “Look who I found in the hall.”

            Leif was set on the floor, and he walked toward his parents, scooting Karalissa aside to sit next to his father. Vilkas patted his son’s back, and the small boy smiled up at him, resting his head against Vilkas’ upper arm. Karalissa smoothed her hand over Leif’s hair, and he glanced up at her for just a moment before his head returned to Vilkas’ arm.

            “Hey, kid.” I said to Leif as Farkas and Aela flitted around the kitchen, looking for something to eat. “Why do you like your pa more than your ma?”

            “Cassius!” Farkas called, laughing a little. “Don’t ask him things like that.”

            “Why not?” I asked, ignoring Karl’s glare and Vilkas’ smirk. “It’s a simple question. He’s a man, and he’s entitled to his own opinions. I like Vilkas more than Karl, too.”

            “He’s three years old, Cassius.” Karalissa grumbled between her teeth. “He admires his father.”

            “Sure, sure.” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “Keep telling yourself that’s all it is. He likes you both the same.”

            Leif threw a fork at me, and it clattered against the table before it reached me. Vilkas struggled to suppress a laugh. I pointed at the boy. “Now, Leif. I may be your uncle, but I will drop-kick you across Windhelm if you throw something at me again.”

            He simply shrugged, unbothered by my threat, as he usually was. He picked up a spoon, tossing it with his little hand and sending it flying toward me. It hit my arm, and I smirked, reaching across the table and scooping the small boy up. I tossed him over my shoulder, carrying him out of the kitchen and down to the throne room. I heard the group following after me, with the exception of Aela, who couldn’t care any less than she already did. I waved to Lydia as I passed, who sat in her throne with Cat close by, speaking with Gunjar about some business that had to be attended to today. She simply rolled her eyes as she watched the hoard of us traveling across her court to the front door, earning the attention of everyone in the room.

            I pushed the door open and walked out to the top step, where I dangled Leif over the edge and lifted my foot, as if I were about to kick him. “Scared now, kid?”

            Leif snorted, shaking his head. “No.”

            “Do not kick my son, Cassius.” Karalissa said from behind me as Farkas laughed.

            “Oh, he’s going, Karl.” I said, letting Leif slip a little from my grasp to gain a reaction from him. He literally didn’t care. “I’m going to kick you, and you’re going to fly all the way over the gate.”

            “Good.” Leif said, wiggling a little. “Then I won’t be around _you_ anymore. Kick me back to Whiterun.”

            “Oh, okay.” I said, lifting him higher. “You don’t like me?”

            Leif grunted in annoyance. “You smell bad.”

            Karalissa and Vilkas snickered. Farkas cackled. I simply laughed. “Oh, you think _I_ smell bad? What about you?”

            Leif swung back, leaving a little punch against my chest. “My mama makes sure I never smell.” He punched me again, which probably hurt him more than it hurt me since he was punching my chest plate. “My mama is good. She’s a good lady, and you smell. I don’t know why she likes you.”

            “Because I’m the best, kid.” I said simply. “She likes me because I’m the best.”

            “My _papa_ is the best. Not _you_.”

            I laughed loudly. “Oh, now I’m really going to kick you.”

            We were interrupted as a roar rang out through the sky, the souls in my chest stirring impatiently as a dragon soared overhead. I set Leif down, who stared up at the beast with wide, gray eyes. “Is that…a dragon?”

            “Aye.” Vilkas said. “That’s a dragon.”

            I sighed, pulling my sword from my hip and walking down the steps. “I’ll be back.”

            “Wait!” Karalissa called, bounding down the steps behind me. “You’re not going alone.”

            I turned back to her, my brow furrowed. I pointed at myself. “Um, Dragonborn, Karl. This is sort of my thing.”

            She shook her head. “Brother, the dream I had. It has to mean something. I—I have to know what it meant, and there’s a dragon right there. Maybe I can…maybe I can talk to it.”

            “No, Karl. Absolutely not.” I shook my head, turning back to the steps, which I continued to walk down. “Dragons want to kill me, Karl. They want to kill me because I killed Alduin, because I’m a threat. They don’t want to talk.”

            “Not to _you_.” Karalissa called. “But I’m not _you_ , Cass. Maybe I could try. Maybe they would listen to me.”

            “No, Karalissa!” I yelled, waving her off as she followed me. “Go back to your family. I’m not going to let you talk to a dragon. It’s not safe.”

            “ _You_ are my family, Cassius.” she said, catching me by the arm and pulling me to a stop. “And you’re not walking into a fight by yourself. I’m going with you, whether you like it or not.”

            “Damnit, Karl. No, you’re not.” I turned to look back up at the top of the steps. “Come get your wife, Vil. She’s not coming.”

            Vilkas stared for a moment, then kneeled beside his son. “Go inside, Leif. Tell Aunt Lydia that we all went to fight a dragon.”

            “…what?” I muttered, outstretching my arms in annoyance.

            Leif shook his head. “I want to go too, Papa. I can fight a dragon. I’m strong.”

            “I know you are, son. But this is something your Mama has to do, and I have to go with her. I have to protect her. So I need you to go back inside, Leif. Tell Lydia.”

            Leif though for a moment, then he looked out at us. Turning back to his father, he nodded. “Don’t let a dragon eat Mama.”

            “I won’t.” Vilkas said.

            Leif looked up at Farkas, pointing a small finger at him. “Don’t let a dragon eat my Papa.”

            Farkas laughed. “I promise, I’ll get eaten first.”

            Leif nodded, then he walked back into the palace. Vilkas stood, staring down at me with his hands on his hips. I groaned loudly. “Vilkas, this is the opposite of what I told you to do.”

            “If she feels like she has to see a dragon, then I stand behind her.” Vilkas said, walking down the steps toward us. “She never dreams.”

            Farkas dashed past him, scooping Karalissa up and tossing her over his shoulder. “We’re going to finally see a dragon, Lissa!” She laughed as Farkas turned to glare at me. “Since I was _promised_ a dragon years ago, and I never _got_ a dragon.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry that the realization that my sister was your Harbinger was a bit more important to me that a gods damned dragon.” I mumbled, and Vilkas patted my back.

            Farkas shrugged. “I might forgive you.”

            “Listen to me, all of you.” I said as we all neared the gate. “Dragons do not screw around. They want me dead, and they’ve nearly succeed a time or two. Do not let a dragon kill you. I will be so pissed if you all die.”

            “Duely noted.” Karalissa said as Farkas set her back down on the ground. “Now, tell me what to say to the dragon.”

            I rolled my eyes as I pushed the gate open. “Give me something to translate.”

            She was thoughtful for a moment. “Who are you?”

            “It’s a dragon.” I mumbled, unenthused at the idea of Karl talking to a dragon. She exhaled sharply, waiting for me to translate anyway. I sighed. “Wo los hi?”

            “Wo los hi.” Karalissa repeated, trying to remember the phrase. “Wo los hi. Wo los hi.”

            The dragon soared over us, a loud cry ringing through the sky. I sighed again, turning back to the warriors that trailed behind me. “Go for the wings. A dragon that can’t fly is beatable.”

            They nodded as the dragon hovered before me, a deep laugh accompanying the growl it presented. I shook my head as we walked toward it. “Hi bo wah dii laas.” I called to it, stating that it disrupted my life. Farkas was bouncing excitedly, pulling his greatsword from his back.

            The dragon laughed, the sound deep and dark. “ _Zu’u_ los hin laas.” The dragon wasn’t wrong. It _was_ my life. I drew breath, suddenly angered by the arrogance of this dragon.

            **FUS RO DAH** I shouted, and the dragon waivered slightly. It flapped its wings, flying away from us and circling before it returned, blowing a stream of ice in our direction. It simply evaporated from my flesh, melting and drifting away as smoke. My sister mumbled incoherently, trying to focus as she lifted her bow and fired an arrow at the dragon.

            It connected with the dragon’s shoulder, and it roared, circling back to us with its gaze fixed on my sister. Something rumbled in my chest, other than the restless souls, and I stepped in front of her, tired of playing around and ready to bring this stupid lizard down.

            **JOOR ZAH FRUL** flew from me, dragging the dragon to land before us. Immediately, Farkas and Vilkas dashed for opposite wings, piercing the tender flesh that entwined the bones and yanking to form harsh cuts. The dragon cried out in pain, which set my sister on edge.

            The dragon swung its head toward Vilkas, who ducked beneath the dragon and rolled away, landing on his feet and dashing back toward us. Farkas had gone to work stabbing the dragon in its ribs, and the dragon whipped back toward Farkas, nearly knocking me and my sister over. It snapped at him, but Farkas merely laughed, stepping out of the way with long legs and trotting to rejoin our little group.

            The dragon stood before us, staggering in its stance slightly as it struggled to breath around lungs that quickly filled with blood, thanks to Farkas’ handy work. I lifted my blade and sauntered forward, ready to end the dragon’s life and absorb its soul so I could go home and get back in bed, but Karalissa’s hand on my arm stopped me.

            She stepped in front of me, right up to the face of the wounded dragon. She was within the reach of its jaws, and I grabbed her arm. “Karl, you’re too close.”

            She shrugged me away, stepping closer to the dragon. It watched her intently as she approached its shoulder, pulling the arrow she’d fired from its flesh and tossing it to the side. “Kara.” Vilkas mumbled, also anxious now as Karalissa approached the dragon’s large head.

            Karalissa placed her hands on the dragon’s snout, running her hand over its nose and meeting its gaze with sympathy. My heart was thudding in my chest as I watched, my knuckles turning white as I clutched the blade in my hand. Any moment now, and I’d have to step in and save her because my sister was acting stupidly, trying to soothe a dragon as it died slowly before us.

            Finally, my sister spoke, her hand against the dragon’s scaled face. “Wo los hi?” she asked quietly.

            As she spoke, the dragon’s eyes widened, and it bumped its head against her extended hand. “Zu’u los hi, nu.” it said, its voice gargled as it struggled for breath. It inhaled shakily, then exhaled its final breath.

            Karalissa stepped away from the large beast, stumbling back toward me. There were tears in her eyes, unsatisfied with the death the dragon had earned. She had always been too compassionate, too caring about what others felt. She shook her head. “What did it say, Cass?”

            My brow was furrowed, because it didn’t make any sense. “I am you, now.”

            “What does that mean?” Farkas asked, a smile still evident on his face from the exhilarating battle he’d longed to fight for so long.

            I shook my head, pursing my lips together. “Maybe…maybe it’s because she spoke in Dovahzul.” I suggested. “It thought you were me.”

            “Maybe.” Vilkas said, watching as the dragon’s skin began to flake away, drifting in the wind and circulating around us.

            I nudged my sister to the side. “Step out of the way, all of you.” I said, steadying my feet and bracing myself for the impact.

            The light trickled out of the dragon’s corpse, flickering slightly as it radiated from within, and then expanded out to its deteriorating flesh. It hovered for a moment, then flew out toward me. I shut my eyes, waiting for the force of the soul as it propelled in my direction.

            The hit never came, never bounced against my flesh and knocked me off of my feet. It never touched me in the slightest. Never ghosted over my skin. Never entered my chest. Never wiggled between my ribs to make room amongst the others.

            Instead of my own grunt, I heard my sister’s scream. My eyes flew open, watching as Karalissa dropped to her knees, supporting the top half of her body with her palms as the light spun around her, entering her chest instead of mine. It seemed to last forever, centuries of me standing there, my mouth agape as I watched my sister absorb the soul that was meant for me.

            When the light ceased, Karalissa pushed her hair away from her face, vomiting harshly from the force of the soul’s impact. Vilkas scooped her off of the ground, holding her back against his chest and turning her face toward his. She was hardly conscious, the reaction to the soul entering her chest reminding me so much of the first time I absorbed a dragon’s soul. Her eyes had rolled back into her head, and if Vilkas hadn’t picked her up from where she’d vomited, she probably would have rolled forward into her own bile when she fainted.

            Vilkas shook his head, chanting my sister’s name to try and gain her attention. When she didn’t respond immediately, he fell back, holding her against him and shaking her, trying to bring her back from wherever she’d gone. “Cass!” he cried, his voice cracking. “What’s happening? What’s happened to her?”

            I stumbled back a step, nearly tripping and landing on the ground myself. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

            “Cassius, fix her!” Farkas cried, shaking his head as he watched Vilkas trying to wake my sister.

            I shook my own head, utter confusion the only thing I felt because that was my soul. I was supposed to absorb it. I wasn’t supposed to bring my sister with me. I wasn’t supposed to allow her to talk to the dragon. I wasn’t supposed to let the dragon confuse her for me. The dragons always knew who I was, and maybe that was why the souls always came to me. Maybe they chose where to send them.

            So it was my fault, if the dragon confused my sister for me, simply because I gave her the words to say to it. And as my sister was unconscious in Vilkas’ arms, who had tears in his eyes now as he cried to us that she wasn’t breathing, I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move toward her to try and help, because it was my fault. She’d absorbed the soul, and it had killed her.

            I dropped to my knees as Vilkas placed her back on the snow, locking his fingers together and pumping against her chest in an attempt to resuscitate her. My heart palpitated at the sight, watching Vilkas crying over my sister, who was dead because I let her talk to a fucking dragon. I blinked several times, hoping the image would go away, but it never did.

            They were screaming my name, trying to gain my attention as I stared wordlessly. Finally, I crawled toward them, leaning over my sister’s unbreathing body, but still unable to do anything.

            “I killed her.” I mumbled. “The soul…it was mine to absorb. It—It killed her.” I touched my sister’s face, unable to cry or scream or say anything other than the things I’d already said. Her skin had paled, the dark scar the descended from her eye even darker now.

            Vilkas was screaming as he continued to pound against her chest, refusing to stop until he knew for sure. “She’s not dead! She’s not!”

            “She’s dead.” I muttered again, anger building in my chest. I rocked back and forth, my jaw locked and my fists clenched, and I lifted my hands to slam against the sides of my head as tears began to blur my vision.

            Vilkas scooped her up again, falling onto his back and holding my sister’s body against him, cradling her lifeless form as he screamed her name. Farkas struggled to comfort his brother, to help him sit up, but Vilkas couldn’t do anything but scream, the two-syllable shortening of her given name that he’d always called her. He sobbed, hunched over her and pushing her long hair away from her face.

            I fell onto my back, staring up at the sky and cursing myself for Karalissa’s death. I hated myself for it, for allowing her to do something I knew she shouldn’t have done. For letting her stagger forward into the grasp of a dragon because she had a gods damned dream. I hated myself for it. I’d killed my sister. She was dead.

            I shut my eyes, letting the snow beneath me melt and the cold water burn my skin. I wanted to feel something, something other than the pain that set in my gut as I listened to Vilkas scream and Farkas cry, and I couldn’t react any sort of way for the death of my own sister. I clenched my jaw, wishing, no—praying for the gods to take me, too. I didn’t want to exist without her. I didn’t want to have to live in a world where my sister didn’t. Where she didn’t because I let her talk to a dragon.

            A sharp inhale brought my attention back to my sister, and I shot up as she coughed around her lungs, which had previously been rendered unmoving. Vilkas still sobbed, clutching her against him and kissing her face, and she blinked several times to orient her sight.

            Then, she moaned in pain, clutching at her chest and trying to roll away, but Vilkas held her tightly. She looked around frantically, her gaze falling on me. “What’s happening, Cass?” she stammered. “It won’t stop moving.”

            I furrowed my brow again, shaking my head because I didn’t understand what she meant. But as I focused on the own hyperactivity of the souls in my chest, I understood perfectly. The soul hadn’t picked her, she had picked the soul. She could absorb them because, even though we were two different people, our blood was identical.

            “You absorbed the s-soul.” I stuttered, shaking my head as I processed it all. “We have…the same blood, Karalissa. Oh, gods. We have the same blood.”

            She blinked, resting her head against Vilkas’ chest, who was still recovering from the fact that he’d thought she was dead just moments ago. He stroked her hair, rocking her back and forth gently to try to stop his crying.

            It was then that the ground below us shook, the entire world around us shook because I was right. The sound of the Greybeards’ call rang out through the sky, a single word that confirmed my suspicions, my fears. And as the word ‘Dovahkiin’ echoed through the air around us, and the trembling below us ceased, I pulled myself to my feet, staggering toward Karalissa, who stared up at Vilkas and mumbled about the confusion she felt.

            I reached down for her, pulling her from Vilkas’ reluctant arms and helping her stand. When she was on her feet, and I’d steadied her, I placed my hands on her shoulders. “You’re Dragonborn, Karalissa. I don’t know how I didn’t realize that it was a possibility until now, but you are. We were both born of dragon blood.”

            “I don’t…I don’t understand, Cassius.” she mumbled, grabbing Vilkas’ hand as he stood and clung to her again, still traumatized. “You’re the last Dragonborn.”

            I shook my head. “I wasn’t the last Dragonborn. I was the only one who’d absorbed the soul.” I stepped back a few feet, trying to grasp the amount of information I was processing. “We were supposed to go to Sovngarde _together_. We were supposed to defeat Alduin _together_.”

            “But why both of us?” Karalissa asked. “Why can we both absorb souls?”

            I thought for a moment, then I laughed. I ran my hands over my face. “Because _Ulfric_ can shout. It’s his blood.”

            “Ulfric isn’t Dragonborn.” Karalissa said as she reached up to wipe the tears from Vilkas’ face. He pressed his face into the back of her neck, willing himself to stop crying. “Ulfric…he trained with the Greybeards. The taught him to shout.”

            “I’m so stupid.” I mumbled, laughing to myself. “His father didn’t take him to High Hrothgar for any reason other than to let them train him. He’s Dragonborn.”

            “Ulfric is Dragonborn.” Karalissa mumbled.

            “ _You’re_ Dragonborn, Karalissa.” I laughed. “We were _all_ supposed to go to Sovngarde. We were _all_ supposed to defeat Alduin. And he attacked Helgen on that day in particular because all _three_ of us were there. He and I in the city and you on the way.”

            Karalissa shook her head. “We need to talk to Ulfric.”

            “No.” I said, my laughter ceasing. “We need to talk to Paarthurnax.”

            “The dragon.” Karalissa mumbled. “From the dream.”

            “Yes.” I said, crossing the distance between us to take my sister’s hand. “And we need to go now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahahahahahahahahaa
> 
> That's it, pals! This is where our story ends.
> 
> I'm sure you all have questions: Is Karalissa really Dragonborn? (ye) Is Ulfric really dragonborn? (yup, he ulfrickin' is.) Is Cicero dead? (Cicero is dead! Cicero is born!) Am I confusing you? (Good. That's the goal.)
> 
> Anyway, thank you all sooooooo much for reading and commenting and interacting with me. This is easily the longest piece of work I've ever written, and I honestly, I don't think I would have continued to write after Blood's Honor without the constant fulfillment that reading your comments provides. Also, McKayla rocks. Thanks paleroni. deviantart.com/devitameatball
> 
> Two more book are in the works, one for the DB and one for the DB (get it because dragonborn? hahano) I also am justn ow getting inspired to FINISH THE THIEVES GUILD FIC DANGIT. 
> 
> But seriously, thank you all so much for reading my junk. You all rock. (Hi ScribeoftheKingofKnights, Lex73, Manu, Alex, P) See you soon!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [When Dealing with Witchmen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9193745) by [devitameatball](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devitameatball/pseuds/devitameatball)




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